Salt and Blood
by emebalia
Summary: That serial killer who blew himself up down in Florida? Still active. So either they got the wrong guy or we have a ghost-problem. Warning: Language, sex and violence at the level of Dexter. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

_A/N To those who are waiting for the next part of the Victor'verse: I'm working on it and you will see the first chapter before that fat guy in the red suit comes around. Promise._

**Pairings:** Dean/Debra but it's mainly a case fic

**Timeline: ** season 2 for Supernatural, between season 2 and 3 for Dexter

**Spoilers:** general season 2 spoilers for both shows

**Warnings:** language, sex and violence at the level of Dexter but nothing explicit

* * *

**Salt and Blood**

„Okay, Darna." Dean grinned and raised his glass. The girl next to him at the bar mirrored his motion and together they tossed their shots back. The drink had a girly pink color and an even more girly name which Dean couldn't remember at the moment – he was pretty proud that he could remember Darna's name at least – and it even tasted girly but it burned like it had a manly amount of alcohol and that was all that mattered, right? That and the fact that with every shot he got a little closer to getting laid tonight.

"So, nurse school." Dean returned to their conversation earlier and no he wasn't thinking about naughty nurse outfits. "Sounds tough."

"I can help people, you know." She smiled at him. "Gives me a purpose, like I can actually do something to make the world a better place." It sounded like something she had thought about, polished over time. Something to impress a new boss to get the job. For a heartbeat she looked damn serious before she burst into giggles. "I'm tipsy."

She leaned way into his personal space and he used the opportunity to brush his lips slightly over her cheek.

"Honestly, it's a lousy job." Her hand found his thigh. "You get paid like shit and you get treated like shit and most of the time you feel like shit."

"Forget work." Somewhere the conversation had made a left turn Dean really didn't like. This evening should be fun and now he had the feeling she would start to cry any minute now. He gestured for another drink. "Let's have some fun."

With grim determination she took the glass and drowned the pink drink like a pro. "You're right. Tonight I wanna have fun." She crawled closer till she practically sat in his lap. Her lips found his and her crappy job was forgotten.

"My place isn't far from her." She said when they parted. Dean looked over to the far corner of the bar where alone at a table Sam sat with one beer he had ordered hours ago and his laptop. Who in his right mind – except for his workaholic geek brother – went into a bar on a Friday night to work? And the scariest thing about that was that Sam looked like he enjoyed himself over there. Alone in the dark corner. Sometimes Dean wasn't sure if Sam wasn't actually adopted.

"Give me a sec." Dean answered already heading towards his brother.

"Don't keep me waiting." She singsonged after him.

When Dean approached the table Sam was already looking at him with this knowing expression on his face. Dean tossed him the keys.

"Here, take the car." His gin grew wider. "And don't wait up."

Sam leaned a little to the side to look around Dean and eyeballed the girl waiting for his big brother at the bar. Dean didn't have to turn around to know she tried to pull him back into her arms by her eyelashes. For a second he felt kinda bad for Sam, leaving him here all by himself but Sam smiled at him approving.

"Don't make too much noise when you stumble in in the middle of the night." Was all he had to say about that and turned his attention back to his laptop. But it looked like he was closing the windows and got ready to leave, too.

"You really should try to have some fun from time to time." Dean ignored the eye roll and patted Sam's shoulder and then went back to the waiting Darna.

"Got permission to act like a big boy?" She asked with another giggle.

"Oh, don't need permission, sugar. I'll show you big boy." He pulled her into another kiss. "Just had to make sure the kid doesn't feel lost when his big brother leaves without him."

As if either of them would just leave without letting the other one know. They were past that, thank god. And even now in the downtime, after one hunt finished and the next not even on the horizon, they needed to know, at least roughly, where the other one was and when to expect him back. So they knew at which point they could start to worry. Helped to survive.

Dean followed Darna outside the bar and into the night. They walked the short distance, Dean with one arm around her shoulder and she sneaked her hand under his leather jacket.

As soon as they entered her apartment she brushed the jacket off his shoulders while she kicked her shoes from her feet. Dean appreciated a woman who could multitask, he wondered what else she could do simultaneously and he really hoped he was about to find out. She guided him into her bedroom, in this tiny apartment it took only a few steps – shitty payment and all – but all what mattered for Dean at the moment was the woman in his arms and the bed he sank into.

Later when she lay in his arms and Dean felt the afterglow of the sexy times – and yes she could multitask in bed too – he couldn't quite force himself to get up. Drowsy he had trouble keeping his eyes open and he was really tempted to just fall asleep. One-night stands were one thing, mornings after another. He did the first as often as he could, the latter not so much. Usually it was kinda awkward when in the harsh sunlight the woman realized that he probably wasn't the talent scout or rock-star or whatever lie he'd told her to get into her pants. Not that most of them wasn't smart enough to see right through his thin cover story but in the middle of the night they wanted to believe and just have some fun. In the morning reality was back and he didn't fit in anymore.

So better leave in time. He placed a kiss on top of her hair and she sighed in her sleep. Dean slipped out of the bed, gathered his things and a few minutes later he stood on the street. Hands in his pockets and a gin on his face he made his way back to the motel.

He was even in a good enough mood to actually try to be as quiet as possible to not wake up Sam. Who poked out of his bed as soon as he heard the door nevertheless, but fell back into his pillow without really waking up once he had recognized Dean.

Dean slipped under the covers, Darna's scent still in his nose, lingering on his skin and with a happy sigh he fell asleep.

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Another good thing about the time between hunts was the fact that they could sleep in. At least Dean did. When he woke up a freshly showered and shaved Sam sat fully clothed at the little table of their motel room completely absorbed in his laptop and the notes he were working on for the last few days. Dean had no idea what he was working on but he was fine with having some fun till Sam told him where to drive next for a hunt. Maybe he should hustle some money while they were here. Or he could call Darna for a second round. The light pounding in his head told him that he better should stay away from girlish pink drinks next time, though.

"How can you be up so early?" Dean grunted and rolled out of the bed. The taste of roadkill in his mouth but he wasn't dashing for the bathroom, so he considered the night as a success.

"It's past nine." Sam informed him without even looking up. "Get ready and we can get some breakfast."

That sounded like a plan, the promise of food and coffee always sounded like a plan. But he had to brush his teeth first and sniffing at his armpit he decided a shower was due, too.

With the diner only a block down the street they left the car behind and walked the short distance. Bright sunshine and a blue sky above them with only a few fluffy clouds, Dean felt like he had been transported into a Disney movie but he didn't mind. Even the bell announcing customers at the diner rang cheerfully.

In the two days they had stayed in town they had become quite regulars. Regular enough that Maria – the mid-fifty, motherly owner of the diner – welcomed them with a warm smile and hot coffee before they even had the chance to made themselves comfortable in a booth at the far end of the diner. Breakfast was mostly over and it was too early for lunch so there were only a few other guests which gave the brothers some privacy. Which was probably good because the way Sam set up his laptop and went through his notes he was ready to tell Dean about their next case.

"What can I do for you?" Maria brought them the menus, her warm smile directed at Sam. Figures, that kid couldn't for the life of his get a hot chick to look twice at him but every woman over forty immediately wanted to mother him to death. However, the way Sam squirmed under that unwanted attention every single time was totally worth it.

"Stop grinning." Sam growled at him as soon as Maria was out of earshot.

"She likes you." That got him a glare.

With the steaming coffee in his hand Dean leaned back.

"What do you got?" He nodded towards the notes. It was like flipping a switch, from one second to the other Sam was in research mood. The same eagerness Dean had loved since a six-year-old Sam had told him with bright eyes what he had learned at school that day.

"I'm not sure if there _is_ actually a case." Sam started. "You heard about that serial killer down in Florida? The one who blew himself up?"

Dean took a sip of his coffee, thinking. "It was all over the news." He remembered. "What was he called? The Bay Harbor Butcher?"

"That's the one." Sam turned the laptop so that Dean could see the headline of an article declaring the Butcher dead.

Knowing his business Dean said: "And you think he isn't done yet." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not sure." They were interrupted by Maria bringing their breakfast. Dean dug in, hot and greasy just like he liked it. This was definitive one of the better diners, if they ever came near this place again … Who was he fooling? The chances to travel the same road twice were slim. Most towns he didn't even remember the name of and if then because they were connected with a hunt.

"Do you know that the police didn't even know they had a serial killer till they found the bodies?" Sam pointed his fork at Dean, chewing on his pancakes. "He had been active for years and if they hadn't found his dumpsite by accident he'd be still around. Dumped them in plastic bags at the bottom of the ocean. He was a cop so that made things easier for him and he was good, really good, never raised any red flags. His victims, criminals mostly murderers themselves, just vanished. Nobody missed them or if they did, they thought gangs or drugs or that the victim had been smart enough to get out and start over somewhere else. Some were wanted by the police so it makes sense that everybody thought they went underground."

Dean nodded. He had read the headlines but never bothered with the details. Just another crazy human he'd never understand. In some ways the monsters were more honest.

"So what makes you think he's still around?" If the police had found more bodies it would have been all over the news.

"Like before there are no bodies." Sam confirmed Dean's thoughts. "But …"

"I like the but." Dean finished the last of his bacon.

"The death rate in Miami is average but if you are a murderer chances are pretty high that you just vanish some day. And …" He pointed with his finger while he searched for one specific piece of paper. "This vanishing rate is constant over the last few years. Like the Bay Harbor Butcher has never stopped. So either they got the wrong guy ..." With a smug grin he reached for his coffee.

"Or somebody doesn't know when to stop." Finished Dean the sentence. They clunked the coffee mugs together. "Sweet."


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was calm. I liked that. Only the soft whisper from the plastic covering everything and the harsh breathing around the gag of my victim. Looked like Cecelia Wright had woken up.

Bank assistant, mother of two, church goer on Sundays.

I positioned the pictures of Bill and Clarissa Taylor on the shelf where she could see them. This was their house. After its owners' death it was for sale. The perfect place for my needs.

"Look at them." She flinched away from me as far as she could on my table and her eyes flickered from me to the pictures and back. She knew exactly why she was here. I removed the gag and she spitted at me.

"They used me." Caught between screaming and crying. Like that was an excuse. "They used me, my access to the bank, and then, when they got the money, they dropped me."

I knew that. Figured it out over the last few days. Bill and Clarissa got all the money and when Cecilia wanted her fair share they just laughed, dared her to go to the police. Instead she shot them, even managed to fool the police into believing it had been murder suicide, and left with the money. Didn't fool me. I noticed the odd blood splatters. But the case had been closed and why bothering with the authorities if I could handle this myself?

I pressed my finger on her forehead, leaning in till I could smell her sweat and fear.

"You killed them." I whispered into her ear. "For the money."

When she started to babble about her two kids I gagged her again.

"Do you really think your children want a mother who has killed two people?" I reached for the scalpel and her eyes grew wide. She screamed behind the gag while I collected blood for my trophy.

I exchanged the scalpel for the knife, ready to kill, when my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Rita.

"Hey." Came her voice warm and soft out of the speaker.

"Hey." I answered with one hand over Cecelia's mouth.

"Will you be home for dinner?" She asked and in the background I could hear Cody asking: "Is Dexter coming?" Excitement in his voice and I thought I could hear Astor too.

Would they want me still being around if they knew that I've killed way more than two people? If they knew about the darkness inside me?

Under my hand Cecilia tried to scream.

"I'm kinda in the middle of something." Could Rita hear the crackle of the plastic? The muffled noises from Cecelia? "But I'll be there as soon as I can."

I ended the call and wrapped my hands around the handle of the knife.

"Sorry, no time to waste." With that I sank the blade into Cecilia's chest, blood found its way through the layers of plastic and something like peace settled in my body and mind. I exhaled slowly, enjoying the moment as long as I could before I had to clean up. As always it was over way too soon and I had to take out the garbage. Quickly but thoroughly I packed everything into five garbage bags and after one last glance around to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything I left the house where Bill and Clarissa Taylor had been murdered.

Being out on the water at night had something peaceful, too. Looking out to the ocean I could pretend to be alone. The only human being on the planet. No need to hide who I was, nobody to see behind my mask. Just me, the boat and the ocean. And Cecelia Wright in plastic bags.

I dumped her into the water, confident that the golf stream would carry her away till she was decomposed completely.

I arrived at Rita's place – over the last few month it had become home more and more – a little late for dinner but Rita had kept something for me in the oven so it was still warm.

I came in from the dark and lonely place I'd been to, the place I was used to, to find myself over the head in this warm and light place. Confronted with people asking about my day, people who cared about me. I was overwhelmed.

It didn't matter how often I stayed at Rita's the love she and the kids showed towards me was baffling every single time. By now I knew how to dance this. I knew to ask about school and about what Astor and Cody had done over the day. I knew to be impressed by good grates and to nod knowingly when there had been a fight with a friend. I was good at pretending.

And after the kids were in bed me and Rita sat on the couch, my arm around her shoulder and she leaning into me. That complete trust was another thing. Didn't she sense that there was something wrong with me? That there was a darkness inside me? Apparently not. We had talked about that once and she couldn't see it. To her I was normal, just an average guy.

I stroke her hair while we watched some TV and my mind wandered back to Cecelia. The peace I had felt right after the killing was fading away quickly. I should keep my eyes open for the next one.

"A penny for your thoughts." Rita turned her head and kissed me.

Better not, was my first thought.

"I'm thinking that I'm a very lucky man." I said instead and it sounded more cliché than anything else to me but she smiled at me. I'd heard that line in a movie but whatever works, right?

"And I'm a very lucky woman." She replied and snuggled closer till she sat in my lap, her arms around my neck. "And maybe it's time for the lucky man to get the lucky woman upstairs."

Okay, I'm not that good with allusions and all the hidden communication but even I got that one. We made it upstairs without waking the kids.

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Early the next morning work called.

"Sorry, gotta go." I had to announce at the breakfast table.

"Is somebody dead?" Cody asked and Rita shot me a glance. They all knew what I did for work, however, they didn't know what I did in my spare time. One of the first rules Rita had set was no talk about work around the children. She had a similar conversation with Deb and despite me Deb seemed absolutely shocked that Rita even thought she would let details slip. Watching her mouth on the other hand …

We both worked for the police and caught the bad guys that was all the kids needed to know and all Rita wanted to know.

"I haven't even been there how should I now?" Was my answer and I ruffled his hair. I'd seen other people doing it and Cody seemed to like it. I tried it with Astor once and she didn't seem to like it. Maybe because she was older or a girl, I had no idea.

I kissed Rita goodby and wished the kids a nice day at school and then I was in the car. Alone. I took a deep breath. I liked being with them, I really did, but sometimes it seemed hard to breath with them around.

I left those thoughts behind and concentrated on work. There was a crime scene awaiting me.

The scene was already blocked off with onlookers and reporters on one side of the yellow tape and police officers on the other. I spotted Angel and Masuka over something that had to be the body. We were quite in the open, this was the parking lot of a bar. At this early hour it was abandoned, there were only two other cars, maybe leftovers from people who were smart enough to not drink and drive.

On the side I saw Deb and that new guy Quinn questioning an older man. The one who had found the victim? The owner of the bar? Not my department. My department lay on the ground with blood all around.

When I approached Angel filled me in. A young man, late twenties to early thirties, no wallet or anything on him to identify him. Face beaten to pulp so most likely we would have trouble to identify him via dental records as well.

"Beaten to death." Angel said as if that wasn't obvious. "My best guess is a baseball bat. Looks like a robbery to me. The one who did this even took his shoes."

I glanced at the feet of the victim, dirty and bloody socks. Hmm.

"Okay." I looked around taking in the scene. "You're maybe right with the baseball bat, at least it's a blunt weapon for sure, but there had been two attackers. One standing here. BAMM." I made a swinging motion. "Victim tumbles over there. BAMM. Second attacker. Victim drops to his knees. BAMM. Swing to the head. Victim goes down. Then they hit him till he's dead." I stopped for a second replaying the scene in my mind. "Oh, and he lost his shoes before they had beaten him to death."

"I think it's because of a girl." Masuka grinned at me. "Maybe she has a shoe fetish. You know, sniffing men's shoes." I had no idea why somebody would do that but there were a lot of things people did I had no clue why they did them.

"We'll keep that in mind." Angel answered. "But for now I'm going with: He has been robbed, hadn't enough on him to satisfy the robbers and for that got beaten to death."

Masuka shrugged it off as if that was the weird idea. For him it probably was.

"The owner hasn't seen anything." Deb said coming over with Quinn trailing behind her.

"Yeah, he's more concerned about losing customers than the dead body on his doorstep." Quinn added. "And nobody else has seen anything. Apparently nobody knew him either." He nodded towards the victim.

I drove back to the department to have a closer look at the evidence while Deb and Quinn tried to find somebody who could identify the victim.

I searched for answers where I always find answers. The blood. Maybe we had the victim in the system.

Then I studied the pictures from the scene hoping to find something that didn't belong to the victim. If he had managed to defend himself there could be blood or other material from his attackers. But I found nothing. Maybe the coroner had more luck.

Leaning back in my chair I let my mind travel. I should be looking for my next victim.

"Busy?" Deb stuck her head in.

"Not really."

She sneaked in, looking behind her before she closed the door and then sighed in relief.

"You are hiding from somebody?" I guessed.

"Masuka." Was the not surprising answer. "That fucking pervert has asked me for a date."

"And?" My sister war Masuka's wet dream, nothing new about that. And usually Deb could handle him pretty well.

"He wants a fucking double date. Me and him, you and Rita." She clarified. "So if he asks you, you say fucking no."

"Okay." A date with Masuka wasn't on my list of things I had to do before I die, anyway.

"You know where he wants to take us?" Now she looked completely horrified. "A fucking strip bar. That's his idea of a fucking romantic dinner." And she added another "fuck" for good measure.

"Okay, no strip bars with Masuka, got it."

"Thanks, you are the best." She peeked out into the main office area. "Fuck, there he comes."

She bailed out of my room and nearly stumbled into Masuka. He laughed his little laugh but she ignored him.

"Hey, Dexter, what are you doing on Friday?"

Not going to a strip bar with you and the girls.

"I've plans with Rita and the kids."


	3. Chapter 3

They checked in in the _Blue Starfish Motel_ in Miami. Hence the name Dean wasn't surprised when they entered the room and it was decorated with starfish. Blue ones. The walls, the ceiling, the carpet. Blue starfish everywhere.

The brothers huffed in unison and then set their duffel bags on the beds. Blankets with starfish, pillows with starfish, the fucking bed-frames were covered with starfish.

"At least they keep it straight." Dean commented and sat on his bed to test the mattress. It didn't sound too bad and it wasn't so soft that it would swallow him in his sleep. Even the sheets looked clean. The only thing wrong with them were the blue starfish but he had slept in worse. The Barbie room came to mind or that one with the mirrors. Dean shuddered. Nothing against a mirror or two, on the ceiling over the bed? Fine with him. But so many that he could always from any angle see multiple hims? Freaky.

"Even the mirror has a frame with blue starfish and a sticker in the corner." Came Sam's voice out of the bathroom. "The shower curtain, yeah, but the mirror?"

"Look around I bet you'll find some scrunchies with blue starfish you can use." After the long drive he needed a good image in his mind to lighten the mood. Dean snickered.

"Ha, ha, very funny. How do you even know what a scrunchie is?" A towel hit him in the head but it was worth it. And no way would he tell Sam about Anna Sue, the girl who introduced him to the many uses of a scrunchie. Let's just say, you can warp it around other things than hair.

Dean let himself drift in memories for a moment longer while Sam took his time in the bathroom.

"You ready, princess? I'm starving over here." Only his brother could turn taking a leak into an epic drama.

It was late so besides grabbing something to eat there wasn't much they could do before morning. Over dinner they discussed their options.

"The FBI had their top profiler on this case so I'm thinking that cover is out." Sam munched his club sandwich.

"Reporters?" Dean shoved some fries into his mouth. Their ghost had been a cop and his friends and co-workers they needed to question were cops, too. So they better found a solid cover story.

"The Bay Harbor Butcher is very popular." Sam stole one of his fries and Dean pretended he hadn't seen it. "He even has his own comic book alter ego. The Dark Defender."

For a second Dean just stared at his brother. "People are sick."

"No argument here." Sam raised his fork in defense. "The point is, if let's say two young reporters want to write a book about this serial killer to get famous nobody would raise an eyebrow. We might not even be the first with this idea."

Dean thought about that. They had worked as reporters before but he'd never pretended to be a novel writer. "You think chicks would dig the writer style?"

"More important question is if the cops will dig it." Sam shoved his plate away. "But first I want to check the library. I guess we'll find more information in the local news than in the national. And we have to find out where he's buried."

That made sense but promised a boring day with dusty books and staring at computer screens. At least the case wasn't old enough to be archived on microfilm. That readers were a royal pain in the ass. Dean made a face.

"C'mon." Sam tried to cheer him up. "We already know who he is. With some luck we can wrap this up in one day's work. Find his grave, dig him up and voilà one ghost-problem less." Sam grinned at him. "Hey man, we're in Miami. We should stay here for a few days afterward. The beach, the ocean, women in bikinis, sun cream. Get any ideas?"

Oh, yeah. Dean was getting ideas. His brother knew him too well. Besides, how often did they get the chance to gank a famous serial killer? Okay, they had dealt with H. H. Holmes himself and you couldn't get more epic in the serial killer department than that, but the Bay Harbor Butcher had made himself a name as well. So yeah, Dean could life through a day with dusty books.

They headed back to their starfish motel not long after that, both tired after the day in the car. They turned the lights off and only then realized that the blue starfish on the ceiling had a double function. Blue starfish at day, glowing in the dark stars at night.

"You have to be kidding me." Dean lay on his back and stared at the glowing ceiling. "Who in his right mind does something like this?"

"Just close your eyes." Came Sam's advice from the other bed.

"Even with my eyes closed I _know_ they're still there." He pointed out. Sam's answer was a soft chuckle. "C'mon, this is okay in the room of a five-year-old but this is a motel. For grown up people."

Sam only huffed and oh yeah, Dean knew exactly what his brother was thinking. "And yes, I am grown up."

"Sometimes hart to miss."

"Bite me."

"Sure, you're not jail bait?"

Dean threw his pillow. Starting a pillow fight wasn't the best way to show his mature behavior, he knew that, but whatever.

"Thanks for the extra pillow." Even in the dark he could tell that Sam was grinning.

"Keep it, it has an evil starfish on it." Dean lay back down but without the pillow it was anything but comfortable. He gritted his teeth and stared up at the glowing stars.

The pillow hit him right across the face but he didn't complain. Sam could have kept it and they both knew it.

"Go to sleep." Sam settled back on his own pillow.

"I'll pick out the next motel." Dean stated but made himself comfortable.

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Dean wasn't fond of big cities, never had been. All that traffic and the noise and the people, absolutely not his thing. He liked to see the horizon, liked an open road and to know that he could get in the car and was out of the city in less than a minute.

One thing good about big cities, though, was that they were big. So the library they went to was in a modern building with air conditioning and the books weren't dusty at all. The librarian was very helpful but nothing like Dean would picture a librarian, more like Sam would picture a woman of her profession and wasn't that sad? However, she was over forty which meant Sam only had to turn his dimples on and that shy smile of his and she was happy to help them every way she could. If Sam would have asked that would include a warm meal and a bed in her guest room but that kid was as clueless as ever.

"Thank you." Sam took a bunch of books out of her hands and was at a loss for a moment where to put them. Their table was full. But the librarian brought one book after the other, even brought them coffee and Dean had to admit she knew quite a lot about the case and she was willing to talk.

"You are such a nice young man." She said with a little shake of her head and her glance in Dean's direction told him that he was considered as not so nice. He could live with that. "Why can't you write about something more happy? Why has it to be all that gruesome murder?"

"This is an interesting study of a sick human mind." Sam said vaguely and turned his dimples up a few watt. "It's fascinating."

She sighed but left it. With the promise to bring more coffee, and Dean was pretty sure coffee wasn't allowed here with all the books around, she left them alone for the moment.

"You got a new fan." Dean said and dodged the smack aimed at his shoulder.

"Stop it and start reading." Sam growled at him and turned his attention to the computer in front of him. Sam had a point, this was fascinating. Not that Dean would ever admit it. And it wasn't the killer, it was the press and the public that fascinated him. Why would somebody idolize a serial killer? What was the point? One of their kind went crazy and killed among them and they worshiped him like a hero. Dean didn't get it.

"People are sick." He repeated but sat down to read. There were books written about the Bay Harbor Butcher, books full of half truth and assumptions. The manifest, the killer had written, was recited and analyzed beyond recognition. And the papers were full with articles. A lot of speculation and a few pieces of real information. Dean let out a sigh.

"If we can't finish this with an easy grave digging and a happy little bonfire, we'll have to get the real file from the police." Sam leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He had been staring at the monitor for hours now.

"Here." Dean pointed out a note at the end of one of the books. Mostly it was a bunch of newspaper articles cramped together between two book covers. If that was called writing he could do that in his sleep. "This says that Doakes, or what had been left of him, had been cremated."

"Great." Sam gestured around over the piles of books and notes. "So this was all for nothing. We have to find out what's keeping him here."

Dean shut the book with more force than necessary and was ready to leave. But the librarian chose that moment to come back with the promised coffee.

"So this Bay Harbor Butcher." Sam started while he stirred sugar in his coffee. "He was a cop?"

Dean wanted to smack him in the head. She was a librarian for Christ's sake what could she possible know about that case? Besides what everybody knew from the papers and the gossip. And librarians weren't the first address for good gossip.

"He was." She confirmed. With a conspiring look around she leaned closer to Sam. "He had been here a few times, you know?"

Okay, that was interesting.

"Here?" Sam asked like a stupid. "In this library?"

"What did he want?" Dean asked and was pretty sure the answer would be the new Follett or King or some other book.

"Old newspapers." She said instead and with a shy smile she added. "Like you." She got serious really quickly again. "He searched old article for something. I don't know. But since then I always wondered it I should have noticed something. If I should have done something. But back then he had only been a nice man. A detective even. I thought he had been haunted by an old case, like the cops on TV, you know? Like there was something he wanted to figure out." Again she shook her head.

"It's not your fault." Sam hurried to say. "You couldn't know. Nobody knew. If the police didn't stumble over the bodies he would still be around. And he was surrounded by cops. If they didn't sense that there was something wrong, nobody could."

Dean let Sam do his little speech but his mind swirled around the new information. So Doakes had been searching for something. His victims? If they were right with the pattern that he only killed killers newspaper articles would help him to find his victims. Not that different from what he and Sam usually did. If he added the access to the police files it fit into the big picture. Too bad the nice librarian didn't remember what articles Doakes had been interested in.

Sam made a bit more small talk before he said his thanks for the help and the coffee and then they left. Outside Dean took a deep breath. Dusty or not libraries just weren't his thing.

"So we have to talk to his family and co-workers after all." Sam summarized their situation. So much for "We wrap this up and tomorrow we can hang out at the beach".

Dean sighed. "You know where his family lives?"

"Yeah, but first I want to see the cabin where he died."


	4. Chapter 4

There was nothing I could do to help with the case of Mister-beaten-to-death-with-a-baseball-bat-John-Doe. I could proof that the murder weapon had been in fact a baseball bat, but for the rest I had to wait for the DNA analysis. And listen to Masuka's babbling about that strip bar he wanted to take us.

From my place I had a pretty good overview over the office. I saw Quinn on the phone and my sister reading a file and then I saw them. Two young men, both tall but the taller one could get into a competition about being the highest mountain in Florida with Little Chino. Not that massive and he was hunching his shoulders like he wanted to hide his height but still. They both wore ordinary suits and an easy smile I knew too well. I saw it very time I looked in a mirror.

They shook hands with LaGuerta and took a seat in her office.

"Who's that?" I nodded in the direction to get Masuka's attention from the strippers to the guests in our boss' office.

Masuka squinted and shrugged his shoulders like he wanted to say: Who cares? But it gave me an excuse to leave my office to ask Deb the same question. Not that I was really interested in the men at that point of time but I wanted to get rid of Masuka without using a knife.

"You got the DNA?" Was Deb's question before I could ask her mine.

"The test is still running." What could I do? I'm a genius when it comes to blood but even I couldn't make the machines run faster.

"What do they want?" I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder.

"Fuck, if I know."

Through the window I watched LaGuerta and the two men. I couldn't put my finger on it, however, the shorter one of them – and short was only the right word as long as he stood next to the other guy – rang a bell. A bit older than his partner – or whatever they were – but I didn't think he had hit thirty yet. Quite attractive if I read the expression on my sisters face correctly which I might did not.

I had to admit I'd seen uglier examples of mankind and at least the older one knew about his effect on women. However, after a few minutes LaGuerta smiled at the younger one of the two way more often. Finally they seemed to have come to some kind of agreement. They stood and shook hands and then the men followed LaGuerta into the main office area. After a quick look around to make sure that everybody was there and listening she introduced them.

"Okay everybody." She raised her voice to make sure she was heard. "These are Grant and Page. They are journalists." She gestured between the two men. "They are here to ask you questions about the Bay Harbor Case and I guaranteed them our full assistance."

"What the fuck?" I heard Deb next to me and others had the same expression on their lips. Everybody knew that LaGuerta was the last person to support anything like this. Doakes had been her partner and she still had her doubt – and rightly so but nobody besides me knew that – that Doakes was guilty.

Now the younger one stepped to her side, straightened up and looked openly around before he spoke.

"We are not here to cause any trouble." He said and flashed them a smile. "We know this is about a co-worker of yours so this could be kinda awkward. But we noticed every publication about this case focuses either on the man who did this or on the role of the FBI involved. We want to emphasis the outstanding performance of this department. You all did good work under bad circumstances and the world should get to know that." He finished his little speech with a shy grin and stepped back behind LaGuerta.

So that was why she had agreed. Good publicity outweighed her personal believes at any time.

"Morgan?" She asked and me and Deb both raised our heads. "Both of you." LaGuerta clarified.

"Officer Morgan was part of the Special Task Force in this case." LaGuerta introduced Deb.

"Good to know that in Miami not only the weather is hot." Grant said and got an elbow in the midriff from his partner.

"I can show you some fucking hot places." Deb bubbled out without thinking and immediately started to stammer.

"I like her." Grant beamed at his partner.

"Bet you do." Page mumbled under his breath.

"And this is Dexter Morgan, he will answer your questions about the evidences."

Will I? "Sure."

Grant looked between Deb and me. "Oh man, don't tell me you two are married or something."

"No, no. He's my brother." Deb hurried to say and tucked a lock back behind her ear. I hadn't seen her that nervous since Lundy and I should have been happy to see my sister being interested in men again but something was nagging in my mind. Close up I was pretty sure I had seen Grant's face before.

"Awesome." He turned to his partner. "Lab geek for you and I'll talk to this lovely young officer."

Deb actually blushed. That Grant guy had made quite an impression on my sister.

"Don't mind him." Page tried to smooth things. "He's harmless. He just sometimes forgets to think with his upstairs brain."

They bickered like they knew each other for a long time. If it weren't for the different names I'd have guessed brothers. Maybe step- or half-brothers? Or they were a couple. Whatever their relationship was I was stuck with at least one of them for the next few days. So much for using my spare time at work to find my next victim. But I smiled and took the younger one with me to my office.

He said his name was Sam and I told him he should call me Dexter because, honestly, things could get a little bit confusing with Officer Morgan and lab geek Morgan in the mix.

It was when he mentioned that his partner's name was Dean when I realized who they were. They had balls to walk into a police station like that.

Sam and more important Dean Winchester. I smiled.

I always kept an eye on the news just in case somebody with a familiar face walked into the station. Not that I really thought somebody would be that stupid. And then along came Dean Winchester. I only recognized him because he had been declared dead – shot if I recalled correctly – and then popped up in a bank robbery almost a year later. I remembered that I'd thought how odd it was to go from torture and murder back to a bank robbery. Usually a career like that goes pretty straight downhill, you don't come back from murder to something ordinary like a robbery. At least not the ones like me, not the ones who like to kill.

But my memory was scratchy at best and I had to do a little research myself to get a better picture. However, if this Dean Grant really was Dean Winchester, it left the question what he was doing here. No way he was here to write a book.

I smiled at Sam and kept my thoughts to myself.

So this was the not so little little brother. I sized him up. At first glance he was a lanky kid with a too big body. The way he kept himself, the way he moved told me that I had to be careful if I ever had to fight him face to face.

"So." I spread my hands. "What do you need?"

To my surprise the next hour went by in a blur. We talked about the case and he actually knew what he as talking about. The first time a police term slipped from my lips and he knew exactly what it meant I got curious. Soon after that we talked like I would with any officer out there. Whatever they were up to, Sam Winchester knew his way around.

The questions he asked me were another thing. He knew a lot about the case but he was more focused on Doakes as a person. Were the body complete when we found him? Somebody in the department he was close with? Enemies?

To the latter I could have told him a lot but I kept my mouth shut.

"We weren't friends if that's what you mean." I said as vaguely as possible. "He got along with everybody here very well." Except me.

We agreed to meet again the next day so I had time to get the things from the evidence room.

Through my window I watched Sam approaching Deb and Dean who both ignored him. I saw my sister with the man I had to assume enjoyed torturing and killing women. Here in the department she should be save but I would keep an eye on her till Dean Winchester was out of the picture. She is my little sister after all.

Finally it was LaGuerta who reminded Deb that she had some work to do and Sam used the chance to practically manhandle his brother into the elevator.

"What do you think?" I asked Deb as soon as the Winchesters were out of sight. I felt LaGuerta's eyes in my back but I couldn't care less. Deb had been flirting like a teenager with that guy.

"He seems … nice." She nodded and smiled like I hadn't seen her smile since she'd broken up with Lundy. "He's fucking hot." Now she grinned like she wanted to eat him alive. "And the other one?"

I needed a second to realize she had asked me about Sam.

"Nice guy." I shoved my hands into my pockets and leaned against her desk. "Smart, he knows what he's talking about." Keep it casual.

"So, you and this … Dean?" I asked as if I didn't know exactly what his name was. "You gonna see each other?"

She smacked my ass with a file from her desk. "Nothing you need to know, so fuck off."

I raised my hands in surrender and passed a grinning Angel on my way back to my office.

I wanted to start my research on the Winchesters but I just got the results from our baseball bat murder. And surprise, surprise there were two different samples of DNA. At least on of the attackers had bled, too. Next step was to run the DNA through the database and I hoped I could identify at least one of them.

Through the glass I could see the new guy, Quinn, who had the thankless task to handle the calls from people who were missing someone and now hoped or feared our John Doe was their missing loved one.

I looked over to Deb and wondered how it would feel to lose her like that. I wouldn't like that, I decided.

Work kept me busy the rest of the day and then I had to be home for dinner with Rita and the kids. No time to have a closer look at Dean Winchester's life.

However, when I lay in bed that night with Rita in my arms I was thinking about Dean Winchester on my table.


	5. Chapter 5

"What do you think?" Sam asked when they left the department. Dean squinted against the sun.

"She's hot. Not a figure I would usually go for but she is smart and tough and she knows what she wants." His grin grew wider. "And that mouth of hers. That mouth."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"About the case." He reminded his brother. "Did she say something useful about the case?"

Dean thought about that for a moment.

"Not really." He had to admit. "Everybody liked Doakes but not enough to keep his hair or anything. Considering that the guy was bolt keeping his hair would mean they were very close, if you know what I mean." With an wiggle of his eyebrows he got in the car. "That LaGuerta chick was his partner way back and Debra wasn't sure if they were more than that. They were close enough that she still thinks her ex-partner is innocent."

Dean eased the car out into the traffic. "Hungry or back to the motel?"

Sam shrugged which meant for Dean to get something to eat. The kid would forget to eat if Dean wouldn't remind him on a regular basis. How he didn't starve to death at Stanford was beyond him but he guessed he had to thank Jess for that.

"She didn't right out say it but I got the impression that Doakes and her brother didn't get along very well." Dean added after a while. "Maybe they had some beef going on."

"Dexter only told me that they weren't exactly friends." Sam chewed on his bottom lip. "But I'm practically a stranger to him he wouldn't tell me all the dirty little secrets. Especially if he thinks everything he says ends in a book."

Neither of them was in the mood to sit in a restaurant so they picked something up at a drive-through and went back to their starfish motel room. They ate surrounded by grinning starfish – seriously why did some of them have faces? – and then settled back both of them caught in their own thoughts. Sam's were probably more focused on the case, however, Dean's thoughts traveled in the direction of a woman with a filthy mouth.

"So either this LaGuerta has something belonging to him, blood or hair, or there is something between the evidence." Sam thought loud drawing Dean out of his little fantasy.

"Or his mother has lied." Sam added. After they had checked out the cabin where Doakes had died – which had brought them nothing except mosquito bites and wet feet – they had visited Doakes' family to find out if they kept something the spirit could have been tied to. The sisters were kinda nice not bad looking either but they didn't want to talk about their brother at all. Dean wasn't even sure if they believed he did it or were still in denial. The mother on the other hand stood behind her dead son. Ignoring the hard proof – and there was a lot of hard proof – she insisted that her son had been a good man. Dean guessed every mother would react that way. At least they were pretty sure the mother kept nothing with her son's DNA on it. Which didn't rule out an object he could be tied to. However, they never had the chance to ask those questions before the door hit them in the ass.

"And don't you dare coming back!" The mother had yelled through said door.

"I hope it's in the evidence." Dean said and got up from the bed. Laying there he ran the risk of getting that damn starfish imprinted on his backside. "I'd prefer if we don't have to break into the house of a lieutenant. Think you can smuggle in an EMF meter?"

Sam didn't bother to answer that one and just ignored his brother.

"What I don't get." Sam said instead pointing at something on the screen of his laptop. "Is how he gets around."

"What do you mean?" Dean stepped closer peering over his brother's shoulder.

"This is highly speculative but if I'm right with his victims he picks them up all over the city. Hell, some vanished from the outskirts far away from the department. Or LaGuerta's house for that matter."

Dean didn't ask how he knew where LaGuerta lived.

"Usually ghosts have very limited range." Dean saw the problem. "Tied to the place they died or something else they react to everybody who triggers them in that range but a step farther away they can't do anything."

"Exactly." Sam pointed at multiple spots on the map he had open. "So tell me how he can be here and here and here."

"Either he got very strong very quickly." Dean guessed. "Or whatever keeps him here moves around."

"Most spirits don't get that strong not even after centuries, they go insane long before that." Sam went through his notes on more time. As if he didn't know them by heart by now. "I'm not even sure if these people actually are victims of the Butcher but even if I mixed things up a little bit, this is a really big area for a ghost."

"Ghost possession?" Dean threw it into the conversation only because it was a possible explanation. Not very likely but still. He hadn't encountered one himself but his dad had heard of a case years ago.

"Those a pretty rare." Sam crocked his head. "Like really pretty rare."

"I know just wanted to list every possibility." Dean stretched and grabbed the key to their room. "Tonight we won't figure it out and I'll go crazy if I have to stare at blue starfish for a second longer. Saw a nice bar down the street, wanna come?"

Sam looked around their room and was behind his brother the next second.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The next day Sam disappeared with Dexter in the depth of the department to check the evidence. Which left Dean with the task to interview basically everybody who had known James Doakes and he didn't even have to search for people willing to talk. Everybody, absolutely everybody wanted to see their quotes and more important their name in the finished book. Some offered pictures.

That Detective Batista was a fun guy to talk to and he knew the case but he had other cases to work on and he wasn't willing to waste too much of his time for a book. Not like some others. That Masuka guy was just creepy and Dean wasn't sure if he could get rid of him with salt and silver or if he should hand over his password for the platinum membership of BustyAsianBeauties.

"Can I hide under your desk?" Dean pleaded with a paranoid look over his shoulder. Masuka had been called away but that only gave him a few minutes.

"What?" Debra stared at him.

"That sounded wrong, I guess." He scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah, that did sound fucking wrong." But she laughed and as soon as she spotted Masuka coming their way, she nodded knowingly. "Under my desk is the wrong place to hide from Masuka. That fucking pervert is looking for an excuse to get under my fucking desk since I know him."

She checked her watch. "Almost one. Wanna join me for lunch?"

"Is this a date?" He just had to ask.

"Fuck, no." She gathered her things and they headed for the elevator, leaving Masuka behind. "It's lunch."

She knew a place just around the corner where they bought sandwiches. Debra protested but Dean insisted on buying.

"A sandwich for my hero who rescued me from the pervert." With a grin he offered her the sandwich and they sat down on a bench to eat.

"Miami is a nice place." Dean had to admit. He would prefer the open road any day but the weather was nice and everything looked so bright here it almost hurt his eyes, but in a good way.

"It is. Never wanted to live anywhere else." She took a bite and after she had cleared her mouth she asked the question Dean knew was coming. "And you? Where are you from?"

"Here and there. Never lived in a place long enough to call it home." Why was he telling her that?

"Military brat?"

"Something like that."

"And now you are writing about a serial killer." She finished her sandwich and leaned back, enjoying the sun.

"And now I'm writing about a serial killer." He repeated with a smile. She hadn't ask if he'd quote her or mention her name and she never would, he knew that.

"So, you and Page." She drew out the words waiting for him to jump in. Dean needed a moment to realize that she was talking about Sam. "How long do you know each other?"

"We grew up together." That wasn't even a lie. "Then we noticed we were interested in the same things and started working together." Okay, that was mostly a lie.

"What about you?" Dean changed the subject. "Working with your brother in the same department."

"Our father was a cop and I just wanted to be like him, you know?" She fiddled with the paper from the sandwich still in her hand.

"I know exactly what you mean." And he did. "And Dexter? He never wanted to become a cop?"

Now she snorted. "Dexter? Hell no! Always had been a fucking geek. And he's creepy good with what he's doing."

No wonder Sam gets along with Dexter that well, Dean figured.

They talked for a while and it was easy. Dean had rarely met a woman he could just talk to and he liked it.

"Fuck." Debra looked at her watch. "LaGuerta will kill me." She stomped off, stopped a few steps later and for a second she just stood there.

Not sure what to do Dean waited. Chewing on her bottom lip she turned.

"Maybe we could continue this later?" She tucked a lock behind her ear clearly uncomfortable. "There is this bar …" She trailed off.

"Will that count as a date?" Dean asked a smug grin on his face. How could a woman with such a dirty mouth be so shy at some times?

"Maybe …" Making up her mind she straightened. "Yeah, I think that will count as a fucking date."

"Let's discuss the fucking part later." Hey, a good pun was a good pun, right?

She grinned and together they made their way back to the station.

"I hope Sam is done by now." Dean mumbled under his breath but of course Sam wasn't done. Debra had only enough time to exchange numbers with Dean before she had to go back to work and Dean was once again left by himself. Not for long, though.

"Saw you leaving with Debra." Masuka appeared at his side and Dean suppressed a grunt. When Masuka started to laugh that creepy, dirty laugh of his, Dean fled.

"Tell Sam, I wait outside, would you?" He didn't wait for an answer.

Once again in the bright sun Dean took a deep breath. Even the air tasted like ocean and they really should make a trip to the beach before they left.

Sitting on the same bench like before Dean enjoyed the view. Girls in shorts and tight tops, yeah he could get used to that.

"Here you are." Sam sat next to him and followed his line of sight. The soft snort told Dean that Sam had spotted the three girls enjoying ice cream.

"Hey, last time I saw something like that it was porn."

"I bet." Sam made himself more comfortable, head reclined to enjoy the sun.

"Found anything?" Dean prompted but guessed if Sam had found something he would have told him by now.

"No EMF from the evidence. The usual higher level you'll expect at a place packed with stuff from murder cases but nothing really spiked." Sam said with his eyes closed. "And it wasn't easy to get rid of Dexter for a second to do the reading." He shook his head in amusement. "But that guy knows this case. If there is some information to get here, he's the one to talk to."

"Debra told me he's scary good at what he does."

"Debra, uh?" Sam had his eyes still closed but a grin spread over his face.

"Shut up."


	6. Chapter 6

To those who are not familiar with Dexter:

**Who is Harry Morgan?**

Harry was a cop and Dexter's foster dad. He realized early that Dexter had the urge to kill and that he could do nothing about it. However, Harry could form and channel it. He gave Dexter the Code with the most important rule to never kill an innocent (which equals to only kill killers). When Dexter proudly showed him one of his victims Harry realized what he'd done and committed suicide but the official cause of death is heart failure. In moments of stress Dexter sees Harry and seeks his advice.

* * *

I spent half the day with Sam Winchester – or Page as he preferred to be called at that time – going over the evidence from the Bay Harbor Butcher case.

God, I hate that name.

While we were talking I tried to get to know Sam better. Beyond the facade of pretending being a journalist. He and his brother weren't here to write a book. But it had to be important enough to take the risk of getting recognized by one of the officers around. Or by the lab guy but I wouldn't tell anybody.

Maybe the bank in Milwaukee had been a job for money but that other thing? The women tortured and killed? I know the handwriting of a serial killer when I see it.

Sam, however, was fully focused on the case. With some sidetracks to my personal experiences with Doakes.

"Did it ever go too far?" He asked. "Like drawing blood?" He said it casual but in a pressing manner like this was an important question. I recognized the tone, I used it every time I wanted to get some answers. Usually those questions lead to somebody on my table. Was Sam sizing me up? That could be interesting.

"He hit me once in the office." I answered because that was something others would tell him as well. "No blood."

Sam nodded and turned his attention back to the things in front of him. Everything in plastic bags and labeled. The FBI had wanted to take it all but LaGuerta stomped her foot and they only took a few things. Like my box of blood slides. I was glad it wasn't there but the case with my tools was.

Sam had a morbid interest in those and I had to leave for a second. Seeing my tools again which I had prepared with Doakes fingerprints stirred some long forgotten emotions. I had to step out of the room. Leaning against the wall, hands on my knees I took some deep breaths.

When I got back into the room Sam slipped something into his pocket but a quick glance over the plastic bags on the table told me that there was nothing missing. What did he really want? I had no idea but whatever it was, he had gotten it or had come to the conclusion he wouldn't find it here because he was ready to leave.

Back in the office Masuka told him that his partner had left and Sam hurried to follow him. He thanked me with a warm smile and told me how helpful I'd been and then he was gone.

"Debra had lunch with the other guy." Masuka told me with a look in Debra's direction. I didn't know what to say to that and fled to my office.

While Sam had kept me busy Dean had made his move on Debra. Had he chosen her as his next victim? I wasn't sure what to think about the whole situation. If he really was after Debra, this was a rather big cover story. Why even bother with a cover story? The whole department knew him by now. It would have been easier for him to get to her on other ways. This didn't make sense.

I called Rita and told her I wouldn't come over today. I had work to do. I wanted to start my research on the Winchester brother in earnest because all I knew about them based on my scratchy memory of what I had heard in the news. And that wasn't reliable at all.

Before I could start with that Deb told me she had a date with Dean Winchester.

With her still living with me in my apartment I had the honor to judge her outfit. Other than "It looks nice" I had no idea what to say but I wasn't really comfortable with the whole dating Dean Winchester thing to be honest.

My sister spent way to much time around serial killers for my liking. And if that wasn't an odd thought. I sighed.

Debra looked down at herself, hands spread and a look of disgust on her face.

"You're right, this looks awful." Muttering under her breath she went back to the bedroom to change once again.

Later that evening Dean picked her up and I followed them. I was pretty sure he wouldn't do anything in a public place and half the department knew they were out so he'd be suspect number one if anything happened. I wasn't sure what to think about Dean but he wasn't stupid.

They went to a bar I knew Deb liked, Dean parked his car – a shiny but old muscle car which screamed badass, why wasn't I surprised – and laughing they disappeared through the entrance door. I heard the music and saw people having fun. I was temped to stay but I didn't see any danger for Deb. Tonight wasn't the night. And while she was here I had my apartment for myself and could get some work done.

I turned the computer on, brew me some coffee and settled in for a long night. I wouldn't go to sleep till Deb was home anyway.

First of all, Sam Page and Dean Grant were indeed Sam and Dean Winchester. That was the one straight answer I got. Everything else …

At first sight it looked like a solid case, at second sight, however, things didn't add up. I only had limited access to their files from here and even then I could tell something was off.

"You have to be sure." Harry said.

"Stick to the code, I know." I answered but he was gone. I turned my attention back at the computer.

Dean Winchester was far from innocent – same for his brother – but was he a murderer?

Deb came home later that night, safe and sound.

"Waiting up, big brother?" She teased me when she found me still awake. I closed my laptop so she wouldn't see the mugshots of the Winchester brothers grinning at her. Okay, they didn't grin. Sam actually looked like he was embarrassed to the bone and Dean played it cool, but you know what I mean.

"It's my job to care for my little sister." I played along. "Had fun?"

Head in the fridge I couldn't make out the words and when her head appeared over the open door she was chewing on something.

"It was great." She said around whatever she had in her mouth.

"You like him." It wasn't a question. I didn't have to be empathic to get that.

She swallowed and washed it down with half a bottle of orange juice.

"Fuck." She set the bottle aside on the counter and closed the fridge. "Yeah, I think I like him."

Her expression got dreamy and she wished me a good night before she closed the bedroom door behind her.

_I'm not going to kill my sister,_ I reminded myself when I put the bottle back in the fridge. But it was about time for her to get her own place again.

I got ready for the night as well, but I couldn't sleep. What did the Winchesters want? That was the big question and I had no clue.

First thing in the morning I made some calls and by lunch I had the complete files of both Winchesters in my e-mails.

I hadn't time to read them properly but I skipped through them and my first impression was that they were thrown together in a haste.

We got a match on the DNA samples of both the baseball beaten victim and one of his attackers. Turned out the victim had been a known drug dealer named David Rico and the other one was a thug of one of the bosses he had worked for.

Debra and the others went out to arrest Vince the thug and an hour later I was called to the scene.

Looked like Vince got on somebody's bad side as well.

A ran down house in a ran down neighborhood and in the middle of that lay Vince with three bullets in his chest. His apartment looked like a hurricane had been through there – which had happened after Vince had been shot, the blood splatters were disturbed – and under the table Masuka found a pair of shoes too small for Vince's feet.

"Told you." Masuka laughed and made a sniffing sound. "Shoe fetish."

Debra took one shoe from him and after a second found the sliced sole. "Or maybe he kept some of the drugs in here?" She asked and dropped the shoe in an evidence bag. "We are in the middle of a fucking drug war."

Which meant I could go back to the lab to analyze what we got while the cops would asked around. This wasn't exactly the neighborhood where people actually talked to cops but they would try anyway. And maybe me and Masuka had some answers by the time they got back to the station.

However, the case kept me occupied for the rest of the day and when Rita called asking if I would be there for dinner I couldn't say no.

"Dexter." I was greeted with an exited yell and then I had Cody in my arms. Ruffling his hair I made may way fully into the house. A rich and appetizing smell came out of the kitchen along with Rita who pressed a kiss on my cheek.

"Astor, Cody, set the table please." She said over her shoulder while she pressed her body warm against mine. "How was your day?"

"Long." Was the honest answer. "And with you folks?"

I listened to them talking about their day over dinner and I wondered if that was normal. If that was like it should be.

We watched some TV together and I laughed with the kids and fooled around with Cody and it was good. Later after the kids were in bed Rita and I had some time for ourselves and I actually enjoyed just sitting next to her on the couch. She rested her head at my shoulder and we talked in low voices and I can't even tell what we were talking about.

I was up earlythe morning because I wanted to work on my side project before the day got busy.

As one of the first in the department I enjoyed the comfortable silence. With a mug of coffee I sat down and opened my emails.

"Okay, Dean Winchester." I said clicking on his file. "Who are your really and what have you done?"

Having a closer look at Dean Winchester's file it got weirder by the minute. First I focused on the St. Louise case, the tortured and murdered women. The FBI had them all pinned to Dean despite the fact that he could only be connected to the last victim, Rebecca Warren, the one who survived. According to her she was the one who had called Sam after her brother had been arrested for murdering his girlfriend. So Dean hadn't even been around for the other murders.

And the killer had been shot in Rebecca Warren's living room. Later, after a pretty much alive Dean Winchester had been arrested in Baltimore, the FBI assumed that he had faked his death and most likely had been responsible for the other killings as well.

Looking at the crime scene pictures I had to admit it seemed like the same person had been responsible for all of this. But before I could analyze the pictures in detail, Masuka interrupted me.

"Somebody had fun last night." He said with his pervert grin on his face. I followed his line of sight and spotted Deb who was coming in late. Her hair was a mess and she was wearing the same clothes like the day before.

Great, did she have another date with Dean?


	7. Chapter 7

"Second date with Debra?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow when Dean got ready to go out the second night in a row. And didn't pester Sam to come along.

Dean had spent the past five minutes to get his hair into a form he liked.

"You should go out more often, too." He said coming out of the bathroom. "Have some fun, you're way to tense."

"She is a cop." Sam just had to remind him, hadn't he? Dean sighed.

"I don't want to marry her, jeez." He grabbed his wallet and checked if he had enough money. And a condom or two, you never know. With a grin he pocketed the wallet. "After we're done here I won't see her ever again and she's to busy flirting with me than to run my prints or anything."

Sam still looked worried but he said nothing. Instead he opened his laptop.

"Seriously?" Dean shook his head. "You'll just sit there the whole night with that thing. And you won't even watch some porn. How do I even know you?" With a fake sad expression he shook his head. Sam flipped him off.

"In case you forgot, we are here for a reason."

"Yeah, and it looks more and more like this one is a bust." Dean sat down to put his boots on. "But we hadn't been sure in the first place and hey, there are worse places to hang out for a few days."

He left Sam to his boring research and went to pick up Debra. She showed him another bar which was not as loud and cramped as the one they had been to the night before. They had a few drinks and talked and drank some more and talked some more and then Dean leaned in and kissed her on the lips.

Debra gasped in surprise.

"Fuck." She said and for a second Dean was sure she'd just bail. Instead she fingered her hair and looked at him with her head mostly turned away and that shy smile on her lips.

Dean ordered more drinks and they went back to talking but there was this sexual tension he could practically taste and he was pretty sure he'd get lucky tonight. Her fingers brushed his and their thighs touched and when he leaned over and placed his hand on the small of her back she let him.

"Wanna go somewhere else?" He asked and he knew his voice was husky. A small part of his brain yelled at him. She was a cop and he was a wanted criminal. She was smart and sooner or later she would find out who he really was. Then her lips brushed his cheek and that small part of his brain went silent.

"I'm sharing a motel room with Sam." Dean said and hoped she had a place to go.

She chuckled softly and it sent shivers down his spine.

"What?"

"I crash at Dexter's place for a while." She said and Dean started to think about sex in the Impala. He'd done it before, quite often actually, and would do it again but it wasn't his first choice for this kind of activity. A bed was way more comfortable.

"Buuuut …" She drew the word out. "Dexter stays at Rita's over night. His girlfriend." She added at his puzzled look.

Enough said. Dean paid for the drinks and they were in the car a second later.

Debra had barely opened the door to Dexter's apartment before she turned, arms around his neck and her mouth wet and open on his. She bit Deans bottom lip hard enough to make him hiss. She grinned and caught one of his legs between hers. Moving his hip against hers Dean moaned into the kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth.

Somehow they managed their way to the bed where Debra ripped his clothes off.

"You like it rough." He mumbled into the skin of her throat while he unbuttoned her shirt.

"Rough and dirty." Was the breathless answer.

Later, the smell of sweat and sex heavy in the air, Dean thought about leaving but then let himself drift to sleep.

He woke up to a finger trailing over his chest and somebody whispering dirty things into his ear. Propped up on one elbow Debra was looking down on him, catching her lip between her teeth, considering.

Then her finger traveled south over his stomach and around his navel and then disappeared under the covers.

"I've to go to work soon." She said while her hand did some interesting things down there. "But I have time for a quickie."

Dean didn't have to think about that offer twice and a minute later she sat on top of him. After a blissful orgasm she collapsed and snuggled against his chest. Breathing heavily they lay there for a minute but then she pushed herself up and got out of bed.

"Fuck, I'm going to be late." She got dressed in a hurry and Dean swung his legs out of the bed to follow her example.

"Don't hurry." She jumped on one foot while she tried to put the second shoe on. "You can shower if you want, Dexter wouldn't mind."

Only then Dean remembered that this was Dexter's place. He looked at the bed.

"Did we have sex in your brother's bed? Twice?" He wasn't sure if that was horrifying or kinky.

"While I'm here this is my bed." She kissed him. "Dexter sleeps on the couch. See you later." She was out of the door before Dean even got his underwear on. He thought about the offered shower but he'd prefer to do that back at the motel. Without Debra around he felt like an intruder. That didn't stop him from looking around a bit before he left. Everything was neat and had its place.

Normal, he thought and with a little shake of his head he left.

On the way back to the motel Dean stopped at the diner they had been to a couple of times to get some breakfast. So far Sam hadn't called him to ask where he was so at least he could buy the kid a coffee for not interrupting his morning sex with Debra. Dean smirked, he probably should just say that when he handed Sam the coffee.

"All alone today, sugar?" The waitress greeted him, looking over Dean's shoulder as if Sam would magically appear behind him. Sam and older women, Dean would never understand that.

"Still asleep." He said but he doubted it. Usually Sam was up way before him. "Thought I get us some breakfast before he gets up."

She took his order but had no time to talk to him while he waited. If Sam had been in his place Dean had no doubt the waitress would have time for a little chit-chat.

"Thanks." He grabbed the brown paper bag and the paperboard tray with the coffees and she even hold the door open for him.

"Get this to your brother as long it's still hot." The waitress demanded and Dean couldn't help but answer with a "Yes, ma'am".

Like he had expected Sam was up and already working. And he looked frustrated.

"That'll give you wrinkles, you know that, right?" Dean sat a cup of coffee in front of his brother who shot him an annoyed glare but took the coffee with a sigh.

"Got breakfast." Dean sat the bag on the table burying Sam's notes under greasy paper. "With love from your sweetheart at the diner."

Mumbling profanities Sam cleared the table and they sat down to eat.

"Last night while you were … out." And wasn't that cute? Sam couldn't even say the word _sex_. Dean hid his amused expression behind his cup of coffee. "I went over the case again."

"Found anything?" So far this case had been a bust. They had taken a high risk by getting involved with the police and it hadn't paid out. Except for Debra of course. That had paid ut very well.

Sam kicked his shin under the table. "Stop daydreaming about last night."

Dean opened his mouth to deny it but thought better of it.

"Anyway, we checked the cabin where Doakes died." Sam counted with his fingers. "We spoke with his family and his co-workers and we turned the whole Butcher case upside down. And we found nothing."

"So, there is no case here?" It had been a stretch from the beginning and more often than Dean liked a possible case turned out to be something not supernatural. It happened.

"I'm nearly convinced there's nothing to find here but I want to try two things before we call it a bust." Sam finished his coffee and with an accurate throw he dunked the cup in the wastebasket.

"I'm not going to like what you'll say next, aren't I?" Dean threw his own cup but only hit the rim of the wastebasket and the cup tippled over to the wrong side.

"Damn."

Wisely Sam said nothing while Dean got rid of the cup and the other waste from their breakfast.

"We should talk to some of the victim's families." Sam continued.

"We're not even sure who is a victim and who just thought Yemen would be a nice place to be." Dean reminded him and sat heavily in his chair.

"I've a few names I'm pretty sure fit the pattern." He searched for his notebook. "For example a _Cecelia Wright_. She had been suspected in a bank robbery but the two main suspects went down in a murder suicide and the cops closed the case. The money was never found."

"You think she killed them and then Doakes killed her?" Dean summed it up.

"According to her husband and their two kids she isn't someone who just leaves without a word." Sam showed him an article from two weeks ago featuring a grieving man. "He thought kidnappers but there never came a ransom demand. She wasn't found either."

"Okay." Dean sat back. "We'll talk to that man. What's the other thing you want to do? The thing I won't like?" Raising an eyebrow Dean waited for an answer.

"Doakes has been the partner and for a while the lover of … Maria LaGuerta." Sam said and ducked his head behind the laptop. How he did that was beyond Dean.

"Seriously?"

"If somewhere is something left with his DNA it's most likely at her place." Sam said and he was right. Of course he was right but that didn't mean Dean had to like the idea. However, with that look on his face Sam could make him do anything and Sam knew it, that little bastard. Had known since he'd turned three.

"Alright." Dean agreed. "But let's talk to the husband first. And then we can break into a Lieutenant's place." He let out a sigh. "Do I really have to wear a suit in this heat?"

Sam didn't answer that and Dean just nodded to himself. Fucking suits, he hated them but he had to admit they opened doors much easier than his usual style of clothing.

"I need a shower first." Dean got up and searched his bag for fresh underwear. They should hit a laundromat soon.

"I didn't want to say it but you smell like sex." Even with his back turned to his brother Dean could tell he was grinning.

"How would you know?" Before Sam could throw something at him Dean ducked into the bathroom and he took his time just to annoy Sam.

And hey, Sam was the one who took forever in the bathroom. The hair, Dean guessed. To get that mop into something close to decent haircut Sam had to wrestle it for hours. With questionable success.

When he came out Dean went straight for the door and Sam had to hurry to keep up with him. Seconds later they sat in the car.

"Got an address?"


	8. Chapter 8

When I finally had the time to really dig into Dean's file I wanted to get my own impression so my attention was on the pictures taken from the scenes and the victims. And the body which had been buried as Dean Winchester but I set that aside for the moment.

Including Rebecca Warren there were five victims in the St. Louis case. At first the police had arrested different men – husbands and boyfriends – but then they found a hideout in the sewers and came to the conclusion that it had been one man. Dressed up like their loved ones he fooled the women long enough to let him in the house. Rebecca Warren hadn't been fooled the second time and shot him when he came after her.

In later statements – after Dean had popped up pretty much alive – Rebecca Warren still insisted that the man she shot had been the attacker and that Sam and Dean had been there to help her.

I had no idea what exactly had happened there but it looked more and more like Dean hadn't killed anyone. At least not in St. Louis.

The pictures of the victims spoke of somebody with a lot of anger against women. He beat them up but his real passion was the knife.

It was beautiful. The lines, the cuts. It spoke of a virtuoso. And he didn't learn it yesterday. I bet if I'd start a national search I'd find more murders with this handwriting. I found the same handwriting on all five victims.

Wait, what was that? I leaned closer.

"Left-handed." Dumbfounded I sat back. One of the women – victim number three – had been killed by someone left-handed. There was no doubt about that. Every single one of the other four women had been tortured by someone using his right hand but this one clearly not. That didn't make any sense at all.

As soon as I had found one difference I found more.

It kept me awake the whole night but in the end I was convinced that it had been one offender with one unique handwriting. On the other hand the wounds highly suggested that it had been five different offenders. Men with different height, wight and strength. As far as I could tell from only pictures the men first been accused of the individual murders were most likely the ones who did it.

The wounds on Rebecca Warren could have been inflected by Dean Winchester, his features fit. Or by the Dean Winchester lookalike shot in her living room.

"Why is the FBI so keen on framing you?" I asked the Blue Steele mugshot of Dean. If this would ever go to court, I shook my head, with a decent lawyer this case would crumble to dust. If Dean could afford a decent lawyer which I doubted.

With the bank robbery it got even weirder. According to the witnesses statements the Winchester brothers just happened to be there when it went down. Pretending to check the security cameras. Why, I had no idea and it seemed like nobody working this case had bothered to ask.

Anyway, after the initial robber – who never had asked for money by the way – had been shot by the police, Dean took over. There had been killings and a young woman ended with a letter opener in her chest. Which had Dean's prints on it.

I looked at the picture of an obvious dead woman in her underwear. Jane Doe. She looked like the twin sister of one of the employees but she wasn't. Who she was nobody knew.

I stared at the picture trying to figure out what it was telling me. Besides the letter opener in her chest half of her right arm had been skinned. And her throat was cut.

The autopsy report said her throat had been cut post mortem but the way the blood was smeared I doubted that. However, it hadn't bled like it should with the pressure of a beating heart behind it. The blood just had leaked out. Strange.

And there was the skinned arm. Which hadn't bled at all. Trust me, if you skin somebody, there will be blood. A lot of it.

The longer I analyzed the picture the more I got the impression it was fake. To me it looked like something Hollywood would came up with.

"I'd love to see the original scene." I muttered to myself. If I didn't know better I'd say this Jane Doe in her underwear was some kind of prank. A very good one but still a prank.

She was dead, that was the only thing I was certain of.

"Did Dean kill her?" Harry asked.

"I don't know." I had to admit and even if he killed her, had it been murder or maybe self-defence? Or something completely different?

Just like the Dean Winchester lookalike nobody seemed to miss this young woman from the bank. Like they both had never really existed.

I had looked at the pictures for hours in search for answers. What I got was more questions.

Why had the Winchesters been in that bank? What drew them to Miami? And why were people of the Doe family popping up around the Winchesters?

When I finally turned the computer off and went to sleep I was mostly convinced that Dean Winchester didn't belong on my table. Same for his brother.

However, I wanted to understand what was going on with the brothers. Was Dean's interest in Debra really just the obvious? Why the questions about Sergeant Doakes?

Already half asleep I decided to proceed like usual. Observe, get to know them – it wasn't just Dean this was a double package – become their friend.

For a short second my mind traveled to Brian. He had played a game with me. Did the Winchesters want to play as well? Where they looking for me?

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

I needed more information about the Winchester brothers. Lucky me, I lived together with an insider.

"This Dean." I started casual. "What's he like?"

Me and Deb sat together on the couch each of us with a beer in hand and feet on the table.

"Fuck." She shook her head with a smile. "I think he's the best fucking thing that could have happened to me right now." She gestured with the beer in my direction. "I know it's nothing permanent, I fucking know that. Just two adults having fun."

The way her smile faded I guessed she was thinking about Lundy. He hadn't told her it wasn't permanent. But we were deep in a territory I didn't know at all, so I could be completely wrong.

"Does he live around here?" I asked taking a sip from my beer. "Maybe you two could work something out."

"We had two dates." Deb reminded me. "That's not exactly marriage material. Besides, he doesn't live around here. He and Sam are on some kind of road trip to research for their book." She frowned. "He hasn't told me where he is from." She shrugged it off. I could have told her that Dean Winchester hadn't have a permanent address since he'd been four. His file was quite interesting, however, confusing.

"How about you invite them both over to Rita's place for dinner tomorrow?" I suggested. I'd thought about that the whole day and it seemed like a good idea. Even hinted it to Rita to test her reaction and she'd love to meet the men who wanted to write a book about mine and Deb's work. "I bet they hadn't any good home-cooked food for a while."

Usually I invade my victims home – I wasn't even sure if I could call one of the Winchesters my next victim – but in this case they didn't have a home I could invade. So the next best thing was to let them invade mine. Or Rita's.

The fact that Dean technically already had invaded my bed didn't count. That I was comfortable with him being around the people I called family told something. I didn't see him as a threat. Not for me or Rita or the kids. And for sure not for Deb.

"Is Rita okay with that?" Deb asked.

"She loves a full house." I repeated Rita's words. "And she loves to cook."

Deb took another sip from her beer. "I got the feeling Dean's not the meet the family type." She said thoughtfully.

"Oh." So much for the let them invade my home.

Then she grinned. "But I don't have to tell him where we'll go." Pleased with herself she nodded. "I'll just let them pick me up and then we head over to Rita's."

"Sounds like a plan."

We clunked the beer bottles.


	9. Chapter 9

"That was helpful." Dean loosened his tie when they left the Wrights. Mr. Wright had no idea what had happened to his wife and he still hoped that she'd be found alive somewhere. According to him his wife had nothing to do with the robbery and didn't run away with the money.

If the Winchesters were right with their assumption Cecelia didn't run off but wouldn't come home either. If they were right which they doubted more and more.

"Did you get a reading?" Sam asked and slipped in the car. While Sam had questioned the husband Dean had asked to use the bathroom which gave him the opportunity to sweep the house with the EMF meter.

"Nothing." Dean tossed the meter in the back. "Ran into the son, though. He hasn't seen or heard anything. No cold spots, nothing unusual. Despite that mommy didn't come home one day." He gritted his teeth. Dealing with the families always was tough but when there were kids involved? Not his thing. Totally not his thing.

Sam checked his watch. "LaGuerta should be at the station at this time."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Dean." Was all Sam said, all he needed to say. Combined with his puppy dog eyes – turned on at one hundred watt – Dean never stood a chance.

"Alright."

An hour later Dean parked the car near LaGuerta's place. Peering out of the windshield he considered his options. A quiet neighborhood and at this time of the day most of the neighbors would be out to work.

"You sure she's at the department?" Dean got out of the car followed by Sam.

"She should be." He looked around. "That's it." He pointed at an apartment building.

Just to make sure they knocked first and when nobody opened the door Sam got his lock-picks out. Dean stood guard and asked himself what the hell he was doing there. This wasn't one of their brighter ideas. Seconds later the door swung open and the Winchesters slipped in.

Dean whistled when he had a closer look. "The job of a lieutenant seems to pay off."

The apartment spoke of money and style but to Dean it had the vibe of cold calculation. This was something put together for the only purpose to impress and fulfill the expectations of others. It didn't feel like somebody actually was living here.

In the bedroom he opened the closet. Colorful and expensive.

Dean took out the EMF meter and made a quick round through the bedroom. Nothing. On a dresser he found pictures. Some showed LaGuerta with her family but mostly LaGuerta getting promoted or with important people and some framed newspaper articles with her picture. One picture showed her with her partner Doakes both in uniform. Doakes as her lover was nowhere to be found.

"Nothing here." Dean shouted and stepped into the bathroom. All the things women needed to get presentable but nothing triggered the meter.

They met in the living room.

"Anything?" Dean spread his arms already knowing that Sam had found exactly as much as he had. Nothing.

They made sure that everything was like they had found it and then they left the apartment. Forcing himself to walk slowly like he had every right in the world to be there Dean led the way back to the Impala. With a squeak the doors shut and only then Dean allowed himself to breath easy.

"Okay, it's official." He said starting the car. "No case here, this one is a bust."

"No argument here." Sam arranged his leg and got comfortable in the passenger seat. "So what do we do next?"

"Dude, we're in Miami." Dean reminded him as if the bright sun and the palms bordering the street didn't give a clue. "I promised to pick up Debra after work. But until then …" He trailed off and made a turn.

"Where are we going?"

Dean glossed over Sam's skeptical tone.

"C'mon." Dean smirked. "The beach, the ocean, women in bikinis, sun cream. Get any ideas?"

"I've heard that words before."

"Congratulation, you're not suffering from Alzheimer's."

"Ha, ha, very funny." But Sam didn't sound annoyed. "So the beach?"

"What?"

"I'm just trying to picture you in swimming trunks."

"Dude, I'm not doing swimming trunks."

In the end they sat in the sand with their shoes and socks taken off and their jeans rolled up to the knees.

"Have that legs of yours ever seen any sunlight?" Sam remarked at the sight of Dean's chalk-white legs stretched out in the sand. However, the pale legs didn't seem to dim his charm. As soon as Dean got rid of his shirt and leaned back on his elbows to enjoy the sun, he spotted a couple of girls admiring the view.

"C'mon, Sammy." He nodded towards the nearest girls. Sun kissed and looking really good in those bikinis, too bad he was kinda dating Debra. Which was a scary though by itself. Dean Winchester didn't do the dating stuff. One-night stands, yes, maybe a second round too but honestly dating? No way. That didn't change the fact that he was going to see Debra for the third time today.

At Dean's attention the girls quickly looked in another direction, heads stuck together and he could hear them giggling.

"Show the merchandise, Sammy. Those muscles have to pay off for something." Dean nudged his brother in the side.

Laughing Sam took off his shirt. The girls almost fainted.

"Atta boy." Dean joined his brother's laugh. "Bet we'll have the starring role in some wet dreams tonight."

They both relaxed in the warm sand, the soft breeze and the waves a pleasant sound in the background, ans let their eyes fall shut.

Suddenly somebody blocked the sun and Dean blinked at the person hovering over him. One of the girls with chestnut hair and a warm smile. She shook a bottle of sun cream.

"I could need some help." She said with a little blush. "Could one of you …?" She hold out the bottle.

"My brother's glad to help." Dean said before Sam even had the chance to open his mouth. "Right, Sammy?"

"It's Sam." He pointed out. "But yeah, yeah, I can help."

Dean practically had to kick him in the ass but in the end Sam went over to "help" the girls. Dean watched the spectacle and could only hope that Sam would score some phone numbers.

Right on cue his phone buzzed with a text message from Debra: Pick me up in an hour. Bring Sam.

For a second Dean stared at the message and really hoped that it didn't mean what it looked like it meant. He was so not doing a threesome with his brother.

"Maybe she has some information she wants to share." Sam guessed when they entered the police station.

"I hope it's something like that." Dean grumbled. "Because I'm not taking you with me on a date."

"Dude, there are things I never want to do in my life." Sam hold the door open. "And going with you on a date is under the top five."

"Really? What's number one?" Dean snipped his fingers. "Going to a clown convention, right?"

Sam just glared at him.

When they entered the main office Debra wasn't at her desk. Instead LaGuerta headed for them.

"Dude." Dean half turned and rubbed the back of his head so that she couldn't see him talking. "Think she knows?" Shall we run? Was the real question but nobody else was on alert so this was probably harmless.

"Gentlemen." LaGuerta greeted them with a smile which didn't reach her eyes. "One word?"

Without waiting for an answer she led the way to her office.

They took their seats and the brothers waited for her to make the first move. She folded her hands on the desk.

"How is the research going?" She asked. "I hope my department was able to help."

"Yeah, it was." Dean spluttered, the question kinda blindsided him. He had expected something in the line of "What were you doing in my apartment?" or a gun pointed at his head with a "Freeze!".

"I think we got quite a good picture of the case, thanks for your assistance." Sam stepped in with this smile of his. Had worked on her before.

"I want to add one more thing." She opened a drawer and carefully placed a file on the desk. "This is nothing official and I know how it looks for James but I have reasonable doubt that he is responsible for those murders."

They sat in stunned silence for a moment.

"How can that be?" Sam was the first one to find his voice.

"James has an alibi for at least two of the murders." She said tapping the file. "They wouldn't admit this as evidence but I made you a copy. If you can use it for your book …" She trailed of and for the first time Dean saw real emotions on her face. Not the calculated mask, this was the woman mourning her ex-partner and lover. Maybe she was like Mr. Wright who couldn't even imagine that his wife could have done something illegal. Or maybe she had a point. Either way, it didn't point toward something supernatural so it didn't really matter to them. But it gave the case an unexpected twist.

"Thanks, ma'am." Sam took the file and flipped through it. "We'll have a look."

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask." She said with a sad smile.

"We will." Sam promised. "If there really is a reason for doubt we will mention it."

They shook hands and LaGuerta was once again the calculating woman they knew. Before she could hush them out of her office, the brothers left.

"Dean." Debra shouted and for a second it looked like she wanted to kiss him in the middle of the office but then she glanced at Angel and Quinn and Dean was glad she went for a light brush of his arm instead. Even Masuka was watching the scene and if there was one thing Dean didn't want to deal with than it was that pervert.

"Hey, you ready to leave?" He smiled at her but kept an eye out on Masuka who clearly wanted to say or do something. Dean had no intention to wait and find out.

"In a minute." She bent over her desk giving Dean quite a nice view of her ass which he appreciated till Sam and Detective Batista harrumphed in unison. Dean shrugged it off and met eye with that Quinn guy who just grinned. Dammit, a nice ass was a nice ass. He was a man and not dead what did they expect?

"So what's the plan?" Dean broke the uncomfortable silence. "Why should I bring Sam?" She didn't know that they were brothers but inviting a second man on a date was kinda strange. Especially if it was the third date and neither of them had suggested anything kinky till now. On the side Quinn made a strangled noise.

Found what she had been looking for Debra turned around but her eyes didn't quite meet Dean's.

"I know this kinda comes out of the blue but Dexter wanted me to invite you two over to Rita's for dinner." She explained and tucked a lock back behind her ear. She did that a lot when she didn't feel comfortable with a situation, Dean noticed. Maybe he should play a round of poker with her. Not for real money – no way would he hustle her – but strip poker came to mind.

"Stop grinning like a pervert." She clapped his shoulder. "I'm talking about dinner with Dexter, Rita and the kids."

Dean needed a second to process that thought. There were kids?

"Is this a family thing?" Dean asked. At his side Sam stepped from one foot to the other. They both didn't have much practice with the normal family stuff. Maybe Sam was a little bit better with this due to his time at Stanford and with Jess and all that but over the last year he had gotten a little rusty as well, Dean figured.

"Hey guys." Sam hold his hands up in surrender. "I don't want to get in the way or something. You can just drop me off at the motel."

Dean shot him a "Don't you dare and leave me dealing with this family stuff alone" glare but Debra insisted on Sam coming along anyway.

"This is not a date." Debra explained and Dean breathed easier. Like he'd said before taking Sam with him on a date? Just no.

"It's dinner with some friends, nothing more." However, her glance in Dean's direction hold the possibility of more after said dinner and Dean was totally okay with that.

Without really knowing how it happened all three of them sat in the car a minute later. Sam generously offered his place in the passenger seat to Debra and went into the back seat.

"Okay." Dean started the car. "Lead the way."


	10. Chapter 10

The Blue Starfish Motel. Not the best address but if you were short on money – what the Winchesters were, no doubt – it was the best option round here. And it wasn't likely that somebody would ask unpleasant questions. Or would notice if somebody broke into a room in broad daylight.

I wanted to understand. Dean Winchester – and to some extent his brother too – was a complete mystery to me.

I saw them leave their room, despite the warm weather they wore the same suits like when we first had met, and drove off in that old muscle car they owned. A few minutes later I crossed the street and after a quick look around I picked the lock and slipped into their room.

Blue starfish, was the first thing I noticed. Lots of them. Whoever had chosen the motel's name had gone nuts with the central theme. How someone could spent more than an hour in this room without going crazy was beyond me. Assumed you were sane in the first place what I certainly was not. The mental state of the Winchesters was questionable as well. However, that was the reason for me being there so I started to search the room.

As expected the table and a part of a wall were covered with notes about Doakes and the Bay Harbor Butcher in general. Two unmade beds, two duffel bags with clothes and very few personal things. Pizza boxes and Chinese take out. Why bother with keeping the room clean if you know you'll leave in a day or two, I guessed.

In one bag I found a leather bond journal. I skimmed the pages, crude handwriting and scratches of what I only could describe as monsters mixed with snippets out of newspapers.

Agent Henriksen – the FBI agent on their case – was convinced there was a religious motive behind their actions and this journal seemed to proof that fact. What that had to do with Doakes was another question. As far as I knew he hadn't been a religious man. And he was dead. So why were the Winchesters interested in him?

Curious I sat down at the table and started reading. The handwriting on the notes was neater and easier to read than the one in the journal. Which didn't mean I understood it better.

On top of a little pile of papers for example lay a list labeled with "Remains" and had later been extended with "tied to something?"

grave (cremated)  
family  
work  
evidence  
LaGuerta (lover/partner)

Everything on that list had been crossed out except for the last one. I guessed the list had something to do with gathering information for their book. I'd thought that had been just a cover story but for that they put a lot of effort to it.

Next I found a map of Miami marked with several X. The marks seemed random so I put the map aside and then I saw it. A familiar article with a familiar name written next to it. "Cecilia Wright".

Stunned I just stared at the name. In my chest my heart raced. I placed my hand over it and I felt my heart like a little bird frantic to escape. I felt fear. I felt alive. It was amazing.

I could feel my heartbeat through my whole body. Like every nerve was on a wire.

"You know what this is, don't you?" Harry stood next to me, concern clearly in his voice. "They are after you."

I ignored Harry for the moment and went through every piece of paper I could find. Others of my victims turned up; names, faces, places. Like black garbage bags back from the bottom of the ocean. There were one or two in the mix I wasn't guilty of and a few I was guilty of were missing but all in all the Winchesters knew what they were talking about. Now the map made sense, too. I'd been to that places. Most of them. And I hadn't left alone.

"Don't get caught." Harry reminded me. "That's the most important rule. Don't get caught."

I made sure to leave everything like I'd found it and then left the motel and went to the station. The day wasn't busy and I had time to work on my side case. This time I concentrated on the sightings of the Winchesters and the lesser crimes they were accused of. Credit card scams, grave desecration, impersonating officers, break and entry, arson, carrying a concealed weapon and quite a lot more. The list was impressive but the only thing I had been interested before had been the question whether Dean Winchester was a murderer or not. Now I had a different point of view.

That FBI agent Henriksen had tried his best to pin every death in a twenty-mile radius around every sighting of the Winchesters to Dean which were quite a lot but he could never really proof it. Which didn't mean Dean hadn't done anything. A fact that applied to most of my victims. And if I found them guilty I didn't need it to be admitted as evidence in court. I was the judge, I was the executioner.

However, I noticed a pattern. It wasn't that hard to find. There were deaths – sometimes bizarre accidents, murders, suicides or whatever, people turned up dead – then the Winchesters arrived, a few days later the deaths stopped and the brothers took off.

Stunned I leaned back, hands folded behind my head. I got the picture. Not every detail – how did grave desecration fit in? – but I got the picture. The Winchesters stopped the killers. They investigated like cops would but they didn't turn the perp in. Sometimes a corpse was found, sometimes not. Sometimes witnesses like Rebecca Warren swore the Winchesters had saved them, sometimes people talked about monsters but most of the time the witnesses kept silent.

But the deaths stopped. Every. Single. Time.

"They are like me."

"Yes." Harry nodded. "But this time you're the one they are here to stop."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Unlike me Rita was a social person. When I saw the amount of food she'd prepared I had to wonder who else she'd invited.

"You expecting an army?" I asked and snagged away a mushroom and got my fingers smacked. I tried to play the uncared role but my heart was still thumping in my chest. Maybe this dinner was a big mistake, however, I couldn't back off now. Debra and the Winchesters would be here any minute.

"Who are those people anyway?" Astor asked, offended that she had been asked to set the table. "Just another one of Debra's "boyfriends"?" She even quoted with her fingers.

"Astor!" It always amazed me how Rita could get her back in line with one word. Still huffing Astor finished the table and then excused herself to her room.

"Teenagers." Was Rita's comment on that and then she turned her attention back to the oven. Judging by the smell it was delicious.

Outside I heard the deep purring of an engine.

"They are here." Cody come in running a joyful grin on his face. "That car is so cool. You think they'll take me for a ride. Can I? Mom? Can I?"

"Maybe we should get to know them before we let them drive off with you, shouldn't we?" Rita turned him down.

As if I would let Dean Winchester get anywhere near Cody or Astor. Not without me being around. And a syringe, though.

I patted my pocket to make sure the two syringes were in place. I didn't want to use them in front of Rita or the kids but I would if I had to protect them.

Cody opened the door and in came Dean Winchester with one arm around my sister's shoulder and they both had happy smiles on their lips. Dean's looked kinda strained and Sam behind him really looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. Like this was all alien to him. I knew that expression. I'd tried a lifetime to cover that one up.

"Hey, kiddo." Dean greeted Cody. "You must be Cody. I'm Dean." He gestured behind him. "And gigantor here is Sam." He crouched a little to get to Cody's eye level. "Don't worry he's a giant softy. Just look at that hair, man."

Cody giggled and Sam slapped his brother at the back of his head, it was at a convenient high anyway.

"Hey."

"Don't worry." Sam ignored his brother's protest and spoke to Cody instead. "He's the only one I hurt." Which I doubted.

There was the usual introduction and I had to keep in mind that their last name wasn't Winchester today and they weren't brothers.

"Thanks for the invitation, ma'am." Sam gave Rita a wide smile and she actually blushed and waved him of with a towel.

"Take your seats before everything get's cold." She hurried back to the kitchen.

At first dinner was a little awkward. With two strangers at the table Astor was kinda quiet and eyed them only out of the corner of her eye. Cody talked nonstop about the car outside and Dean actually beamed at the admiration of his car while Rita asked Sam about the book he and Dean were working on. At least Sam had the sense to keep it on a child appropriate level, however, after a rough outline of the fake book the conversation died down.

I for my part just waited for the Winchesters to drop the act and to pull a gun. In my head I played several scenarios of how this dinner could come to a sudden end. This was the worst idea ever.

After a while things loosened up. When Dean helped himself for the third time – commented with an eye roll by his brother – he clearly became Rita's favorite.

"Who wants ice cream?" She asked after even Dean had shoved his plate away. Everybody groaned but Dean and Cody looked at Rita with the same expression.

"Please." They said and then looked at each other and burst out laughing.

After dinner Sam and Dean offered to do the dishes. Mainly to escape for a few minutes, I guessed.

"You already did the wonderful cooking." Dean sweet talked Rita into sitting with me and Deb at the table while two almost strangers were rummaging in her kitchen. To my surprise Astor offered to help them or at least to show them where to put things. She never looked them in the eye but blushed every time Dean said something to her.

"Nice young men." Rita said in a low voice so probably the Winchester couldn't hear her. "And so polite."

They knew how to play a role. On the other hand Rita always wanted to see the good in everybody. Otherwise she would have seen through my façade years ago.

The dishes were done and we adults sat down with a beer.

"Where's Cody?" Rita asked. Unnoticed by us the boy had slipped out maybe around the time the dishes had been on due.

"He wanted to see the car." Astor supplied which made Dean really uneasy. A classic car in that condition? I would feel uneasy as well if a kid would be screwing with it.

"I get him." I offered and maybe I could get a closer look myself. I had searched their motel room but that was only a room. A place to stay for the time being. The car was personal. Maybe it could tell me a little more about the brothers.

I only made it halfway to the door when it burst open and Cody stormed in. Holding some kind of device in his hand he made weird shooting noises. When he came near the thing in his hand started to whine and red lights flashed.

"Wow." He made and waved that thing from the right to the left and back. The lights and the sound came and went clearly to his delight. On top of it he started to make those shooting noises again.

"That's not a toy." Suddenly Dean was next to me. I hadn't even noticed him but he wasn't interested in me anyway. He preyed that thing out of Cody's hand who let go of it with a disappointed "ohhh" and then turned it off.

"Where did you get that?" Dean asked and shot a quick glance to his brother who had come near, too. They both looked like they had seen a ghost or something.

"Sorry." Cody dragged the tip of his shoe over the floor. "The door was open and it lay in the backseat. I didn't break it, didn't I?"

"No, it's fine. I shouldn't have left it there in the first place." Sam hurried to say. "I'll bring it back." He took that thing from his brother and with a look in my direction he went outside.

"What was that?" Debra asked which was exactly my question. "Some kind of alien technology?" She joked and she had a point. I was pretty sure I had seen something like that on Star Trek.

"Something I need for the car." Dean lied. "I work on her myself so I need all the tools handy."

Neither Deb nor Rita knew anything about cars so they didn't call him on it. But I knew better. The way both of the brothers had reacted it was rather important.

The conversation drifted from working on cars to other light topics and that little device was quickly forgotten. Nice tactic of diversion.

The Winchesters stayed for a short while after that incident but the whole time I was under supervision. If I didn't know better that thing had been a "detect the serial killer".

When they excused themselves after half an hour I felt relieved. Dinner had passed by and we were all still alive and nobody was in handcuffs.

Dean even turned down Deb's offer to drop Sam off at the motel and then take the evening to another level at my place.

I didn't want to think about my sister having sex with Dean Winchester in my bed but I had other things on my mind anyway.

"Sorry, but we have some work to do." Dean hushed a kiss on her cheek and then followed his brother outside. "I'll call you tomorrow." He promised.

"Thanks for the dinner." Sam said. "It was wonderful."

And with that they drove off.


	11. Chapter 11

"Is he haunted?" Dean asked as soon as they had shut the doors of the car.

"The EMF meter reacted to him."

"Thanks, Captain Obvious." Dean fired up the engine and drove off. In the rear-view mirror he could see the Morgans and Bennetts still standing in the driveway. Cody waved at them. Dean answered the gesture but his mind was elsewhere.

"It didn't react like that when I checked the evidence." Sam said.

"But Dexter hasn't been with you when you did the reading." Dean reminded him. "And you were surrounded by evidence of a billion murder cases. Bet whatever trace Dexter left it has been overlaid with that."

"Probably." Sam didn't sound convinced. He thought about it for a while. "They had some beef. Dexter and Morgan."

"You think it would be enough for him to haunt Dexter?" Dean shot him a doubtful glance. Ghosts usually were tied to their remains or something very personal. To get tied to a person that person had to mean the world to the ghost in a good or a bad way and not just the _I can't live without you_ stuff, something like that was serious.

For a short second Dean wondered if in case of his early and tragic death he would haunt Sam. If so he would totally kick his brother's ass for not properly burning his handsome corpse.

"I don't know." Sam answered with a delay probably thinking in similar lines as Dean. "By the way, how did Cody even get in the car, didn't you lock it?"

As if that was important right now. Dean shrugged. At that point he had been more worried about the dinner and what it probably meant. Debra had said it was just dinner but this social stuff was always more complicated than it should be. It went better than he had thought, though. Not as embarrassing and awkward than he had pictured it in the short time Debra had left him to adjust beforehand.

"Didn't think it would be necessary." Dean answered Sam's question. "Didn't figure you'd let lay the gear around. In case you haven't noticed that was your meter."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just glad he didn't find any weapons."

"Right, that would have been fun." Just the thought of kids and guns – especially a kid he knew – made him feel sick.

They went silent for a while but out of the corner of his eye Dean could see his brother thinking. The way he squirmed in his seat, how he opened his mouth and shut it again without saying a word while his hands started to gesture and then fell lifelessly in his lap. It mirrored Dean's own feelings.

"I got nothing." Sam finally admitted when Dean parked the car in front of the Blue Starfish Motel.

"We've to find out more about that thing between Dexter and Doakes." Dean shut the engine off and reached behind to get the EMF meter Sam had once again thrown in the backseat.

"That just sounds wrong." Sam made a face and then stopped with a frown. "Dude, you think they had a thing going on?"

"Doubt it." Dean got out of the car and made sure to lock it this time. "Nobody mentioned anything indicating they played for the same team. But you never know."

They settled in and Sam immediately started his laptop. "Okay, we have to find the connection between Dexter and Doakes."

"Or we could just ask Dexter." With some tools Dean set the EMF meter on his bed. First he checked the case and the wiring on the outside. So far everything looked fine.

"He hasn't noticed anything unusual." Sam reminded him. "So, I guess it would turn out really well if we just ask him why a homicidal spirit is attached to him."

"Sammy, Sammy." Dean unscrewed the device and opened the plastic case. "Always the optimistic."

"What are you doing?" Sam asked in that tone. The tone that indicated Dean should stop wasting time and start doing something useful.

"I'm checking the meter." He answered holding up the two parts of the device. "Thought it would be nice to know if Cody has screwed with it or not before we use it on the hunt again."

"Oh." At least Sam the sense to look a little bit ashamed when he turned his attention back on the notes in front of him.

After a few minutes Dean was satisfied. Everything looked good and he put the parts together again.

"That should be it." For a last test he flipped the meter on. Expecting only the usual flicker of a lamp or two, the EMF equivalent of background noise, he dropped the meter in surprise when it reacted with maximum amplitude.

"What the hell?" Dean was on his feet, looking around for a threat. The meter on the bed still blinked like a Christmas tree and whined in high tune. Back to back the brothers scanned the area but nothing showed.

"You sure it's working correctly?" Sam just had to ask, hadn't he?

Yes, Dean was sure but instead he said: "Get the other meter."

For a second it looked like Sam wanted to argue but then he sprinted to the car and got the other meter. Dean couldn't hide a smirk when the second meter reacted the same way as the first.

"Told you it works fine."

"I apologize, oh mighty god of electronics." Sam started to sweep the room and Dean hurried to catch the meter from the bed to join him.

"You better, bitch."

"Jerk." Came the automatic response. "It's weaker over here."

They got a faint reading from the whole room including the bathroom, stronger from their bags and the meters went wild around the table with Sam's notes.

Sam flipped his meter off and skimmed his notes.

"Nothing here that shouldn't be here." He said after a minute. "And nothing seems to be out of order, though."

Dean clicked his tongue. A quick sweep through the room, searching the bags in case there was anything of interest in there and then a thorough reading through the notes. That was the way he'd search a place. The way he did every other day.

"Somebody has quite an interest in our work." Dean could only think of one person who would leave such a signature. "Think Dexter has been here?"

"Dexter?" Sam stared at him, then looked around and Dean could nearly see the wheels turning in his head while he proceeded the same steps Dean had. "Oh."

"The only question is if he knows what he's doing or if Doakes somehow takes over." Dean cleared his bed of the tools and stretched out on it.

"Or they could be partners." Sam added.

After about an hour the EMF signature started to fade till it was just above the usual background noise. It would be completely gone in no time but the uneasy feeling stayed. Someone – most likely Dexter – had been in their room and it was quite a bit different when they were the ones whose life had been sniffed out. A feeling Dean didn't like. At all.

It was getting late and they decided to call it a day. Usually they didn't bother to secure their room but tonight thick lines of salt blocked the door and every window. Shotguns loaded with rock salt shells lay under their beds, Dean had a knife with an iron blade under his pillow and Sam had his between the frame of his bed and the mattress. Between the beds – within easy reach for both of them – they'd put the half empty bag of salt. Better safe than sorry, right?

However, the night went by without an incident.

Over breakfast at the diner down the street they pondered their options. Saturday morning, so Dexter wouldn't be at work and would probably spent the day with his girlfriend and the kids.

"What do you think?" Sam asked, sipping at his coffee. "Are the kids in danger?"

That was the question which had kept Dean awake half the night.

"I don't think so." He answered. "Doakes died month ago and the killings, if they are related what we still don't know for sure, went on immediately after that."

"Yeah. And don't forget he goes after murderers." Sam added and tortured his pancakes with the fork. "Rita and the kids should be fine."

Dean wasn't so sure if "should be" was enough but it had to do.

"I'll ask Debra about him." Dean offered. With every other girl he wouldn't even blink and just use her to get the information he needed but Debra was different. She wasn't a one-night stand like all the others. He couldn't even remember a girl he'd spent more time with. Sometimes a second round but it always was about the sex. Have some fun and move on. Debra was different. Using her to get to her brother just felt wrong.

They finished their meal but didn't have an idea how to proceed after that. Calling Debra now would only look desperate and that wasn't the impression Dean wanted to give her.

Debra on the other hand didn't seem to have such problems.

When Dean's phone rang it flashed Debra's caller ID. After he'd talked to her for a minute he hung up and he could feel the dumfounded expression on his face.

"We are going to see her?" Sam asked when Dean didn't speak. He'd heard Dean's side of the conversation but not Debra's. Dean blinked still trying to process what had just happened.

"Apparently Dexter owns a boat." He cleared his throat. "We are invited to a boat trip."

Dean recalled one boat trip in his life and that had something to do with a kelpie and it hadn't been fun at all. He remembered the bone deep cold and the feeling of drowning. Even in the Miami sun he shuddered at that memory.

"We are going on a boat trip?" Sam echoed. "That sounds … nice? Are Rita and the kids coming, too?"

"Just me and Debra and you and Dexter." Dean forced the kelpie incident back into the depth of his memory. "Does this count as a double date?" For what he got Sam's elbow to the ribs. But it was half-hearted.

"What?" Dean followed Sam who took off with his fist in his pockets. With a few long strides he caught up with his brother. "Did I say something wrong?"

Sam shook his head, sighed and kept the brooding silence till they reached their motel. Inside he dropped on his bed.

"I went on a few boat trips with Jess." He finally said, eyes on the floor and voice barely a whisper.

Shit. So boat trips triggered memories for both of them.

"We don't have to go." Dean had already his phone in hand. He wasn't fond of the trip anyway but he would go in sake of the case. However, if Sam suffered from this, no way they would do this.

"No." Sam looked up that sad little smile on his lips he always wore when he thought about Jess. "It kinda blindsided me. Hell, we are in Miami, boats are everywhere. Wonder why I didn't think of it earlier."

Because you didn't want to stir the memories, Dean could have told him but he just put the phone away. It had been over a year but in some way Sam would always be grieving for Jess. Their dad's death hadn't made things easier and no Dean would not got there right now. Or ever for that matter.

"When and where will we meet them?" Sam visibly pulled himself together.

"At elven. Debra sends me the directions." Dean sat down on his own bed trying to get used to the idea of a boat trip. It wasn't that bad. It was a boat and not a fucking plane but still.

"You can talk to Dexter and I'll see what Debra has to say." This is for the case, he reminded himself. But a small voice in his mind screamed: First dinner now a boat trip, run while you still can.

"As long as you two don't forget that you're not alone." Sam teased but the sadness was still in his eyes.

"C'mon. We did it in her brother's bed. Why not his boat, too?" Dean tried to smile but it felt strained. There were plane people and boat people and car people. Dean Winchester belonged to the proud tribe of the car people. He had no business on the water. And for sure not with somebody who might consider herself his girlfriend by now.

"Dude, too much information." Sam was a second from covering his ears and saying "lalalalalala" like he used to as a kid, Dean could see and he was just glad that the awkward moment was over.

"It'll be fun. The ocean, the sun, the wind." He said and shrugged of the little voice whispering: the cold, the darkness, the water in your lungs. This was a whole different thing. And if he told himself that often enough he'd probably believe it in the end.


	12. Chapter 12

The ocean. I loved the ocean. Out there I could pretend to be alone, the only one left on the planet and I'd be free. Free to be. Free to show my true nature without fear.

"Stop the fucking daydreaming and help me with this stuff." Deb's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. It had been my idea to invite the Winchesters on a little trip. Some bonding time and maybe I could find out a bit more about them. By then I knew both their files by heart – I'd used up all my favors and lied through my teeth to get access to all the information but it had been worth it – and I still had more questions than answers. Every answer I found raised more questions.

In a way they were like me. They stopped murderers. But if they followed a code like me I couldn't tell. If so their code was different from mine, very different. And their method was messy.

I had thought about just asking them. To tell them I knew who they were and just ask what this was all about. The fact that I hadn't turned them in should be proof enough that I didn't mean any harm to them. On the other hand I had not proof they didn't mean any harm to me. As far as I knew they were looking for me to stop me. Hadn't figured out that I was the one they were looking for, however, that would be only a matter of time.

Don't get caught, Harry's words echoed through my mind and I could feel him standing right next to me. I breathed out slowly and then concentrated on the task at hand.

"Do we really need all this?" Rita and Debra must have raided the kitchen. "You know we are only four people, right?"

Instead of an answer she shoved another bag into my chest. With an "umpf" I tried to get a grip before it fell into the water and then stored it somewhere on the boat. With all the supplies I wondered how we would fit on the boat as well. A cooler with beer and one bag for the food was enough in my opinion but women had other ideas on that. Especially Rita. Even in times when the money had been tight her kids always had sat down at a full table.

"See, Sammy?" Suddenly Dean spoke up right behind me. "We are too early, the work isn't done yet."

They stood on the pier, Sam a step behind his brother looming over Dean's right shoulder. It looked so practiced it almost seemed natural. Like they always knew where the other one was or what he'd do the next second. I'd watched people all my life, tried to find out how they function, to copy it. Something like those two I had never seen before.

They stood there wearing jeans and t-shirts and a carefree smile but appearances are deceiving. Who knew that better than me?

"Hey." Debra greeted Dean with a kiss while Sam stepped closer to have a look at my boat.

"Slice of Life, huh?" Sam read the name. "Nice."

"There were already too many _Jennys_ out there." He had no idea that I had thought about the name for weeks. Even without knowing the meaning it had a meaning, you know? Just like me. People thought they had figured me out, knew everything about me but there was still a hidden layer, a deeper meaning. There had been only two people who had seen the real me. Harry couldn't stand it and Brian had tried to pervert me. Now they were both dead.

After we had stored everything on board I steered the boat out of the marina to the open sea. Both Winchesters had an iron grip on the railing and their eyes on the horizon.

"You're not going to be seasick, aren't you?" I shouted. I'd planned this to gather more information and not for them to lose their breakfast.

"Nah, we're good." Dean replied with a forced smile. He looked a little pale and his brother shot him a questioning look which he answered with a tilt of his head. I really wanted to understand that part of their communication but I already had my problems with the spoken part of any human conversation.

Debra got the first round of beer and settled with Dean on deck while Sam kept me company at the helm. He took a deep breath of the fresh air. It always tasted so different to the air on land.

"Been on a boat before?" I asked because like his brother he looked a little pale.

"Yeah." His eyes glazed over. "A few times." He paused for a moment. "For a couple of years I lived in California. Went on a boat trip or two with my girlfriend."

Jessica Lee Moore, I knew from his file. She died in a fire last year.

Sam's file hadn't offered much of information. If he had been a bad boy he never got caught. Intelligent, full ride to Stanford no less. Had cut all ties to his family and then his life went up in flames and he disappeared with his brother into the night. The FBI mostly stated him as the abetter of his brother. Seeing them together I wasn't sure about that.

"Wanna try?" I asked gesturing to the helm. Reluctantly he took my place at the wheel. "Just keep her straight."

Of course I kept an eye on him, I didn't want to run aground on a riff but this waters were safe, I knew. Had been out here often enough.

"Looks like … they are having fun." I almost said "your brother" but Sam didn't seem to notice. He only glanced at Dean next to my sister on the deck in front of us and then turned his gaze back to the ocean and the horizon.

Dean and Debra lay stretched out on towels showing us their backs. Debra wore a bikini and Dean had at least gotten rid of his shirt and shoes. They were propped up on their elbows, heads stuck together and I could hear soft laughter from them.

I couldn't help but sizing up Dean. If I ever had to take him down I should better know what he was capable of. Strong muscles were working in his back with every move he made and I spotted a few scars, old and new ones. He knew how to fight. Same for Sam. I had to keep that in mind.

Sam and I were talking about the case while we left Dean and Debra to mind their own things.

"You and Doakes hadn't exactly been friends." Sam prompted.

I already had told him about the incident in the office were Doakes had knocked me down. The one everybody knew about and the Winchesters had heard about from others for sure so no point in denying it.

"You can't get along with everybody." I replied. Still the fixation on Doakes, I didn't understand that. He was dead, no doubt about that, so he couldn't be responsible for my latest victims. I had read a transcript of Dean's so called confession in Baltimore but the whole ghost thing looked like a distraction to me. Sam had used the time to escape and later it had turned out that a cop had been the one killing all those people. Nothing supernatural there. By then I knew the Winchesters for a few days and neither of them had shown any signs of religious believes or had talked about the supernatural. They stuck to the evidence, the facts. Just like me. I'm a science man. I need to understand, I need to see the logic.

I checked our location and satisfied I shut off the engine and anchored the boat.

Noticing the halt Debra got up. "Who wants to go for a swim?"

The Winchesters looked at each other, silently pondering the idea.

"Sure, why not?" Dean got their bag and threw a swimming trunk in the direction of his brother who caught it in mid-air. "Just make sure to lower the ladder. I've seen that movie."

Apparently I had not seen the movie he was talking about but I lowered the ladder so we could get back on board and wouldn't be stuck in the water.

Debra was already wearing her bikini and I had only to get rid of my t-shirt to be ready. We gave the brothers some privacy to change.

"Having fun?" I asked Debra with my back at the Winchesters.

"Fuck, yes." She chuckled. "I think he's a little afraid of you." She teased me.

"Of me?"

"He asked if you would go hostile if he'd run off leaving me with a kid and the promise of marriage he had no intention to keep." She bumped her shoulder into mine and for a second I wondered if she was pregnant before I remembered that she wouldn't know after a few days.

A joke, I decided. She had been joking. But was that all there was to it? Or was Dean testing the waters? Trying to find out if I had violent tendencies?

"I'd probably hunt him down and chop him into little pieces." I answered seriously and she grinned at me. Sometimes telling the truth made the best jokes. I really suck if I try to be funny.

"That's my big brother."

_Yes, that is your big brother_, I thought. _And I really hope you'll never find out._

"Okay, I'm decent." Dean called out behind us.

"That would be a new one." Sam muttered and we turned around. With only swimming trunks on they both looked uncomfortable and showed the same sheepish expression. If I hadn't known they were brothers I would have known now.

"Fuck." Was Debra's comment of the view and I had to admit they were both very well built. Their skin hadn't seen much sun lately and they both had too many scars for young reporters from good families but in my mind I calculated the dose of tranquilizer I'd need to take them down. Just in case.

"Like what you see?" Dean throw himself into pose wiggling his eyebrows. Next to him Sam rolled his eyes and then from one second to the other they were wrestling trying to throw the other one over board.

Losing their footing at the same time they both tumbled over and splashed into the water. Cursing and spitting the came up again.

"You two just gonna stand there?" Dean shouted and shoved a wave of water in Sam's face. For that Sam dunked him.

With a smooth jump I took a header and dived in next to them followed by Debra. A few strong strokes brought us far enough from the boat to fool around without running the risk of bumping our heads.

We swam for a bit, never too far from the boat, but mostly we fooled around like kids. Dunking each other, splashing water into our faces and Dean tried to yank Sam's trunks down. It looked like fun, a normal thing to do, but I didn't try that with Debra. There were things you did with your sister and some you didn't. Most of them I'd figured out by then.

However, it didn't stop her from trying it with my trunks.

"Hey." I protested clenching the fabric and with a well placed foot to the side of her hip I shoved her over to Dean. "He's the one you want to get your hands down his pants."

"I might." She slung her arms around his neck and they met for a kiss.

"Is that an offer?" He mumbled into the kiss.

"A promise."

"Err, guys?" Sam's face had changed color to a deep red and it had nothing to do with the sun burning his skin. I couldn't deny the uneasy feeling in my guts as well. There were things about Debra I really didn't want to know. Her sex life was on top of that list.

"Save that for later." Sam slapped Dean's shoulder.

Dean flipped his brother off but he and Debra parted with one last brush of their lips.

"He has no idea what fun is." Dean shook his head at that lost cause.

"Same with Dex."

"Hey." Sam and I protested and then they were over us, dunking us till we screamed for mercy.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean was pretty sure that swimming trunks fell under the "not doing shorts" policy of his but Sam convinced him to at least pack them into their bag. Along with some towels they swiped from the motel and sun cream. And half a billion other things Sam apparently thought they would need on the ocean.

"You carry that." Dean informed him and headed for the door with Sam and his bag on his heels.

When Dean first saw the boat his heart jumped and he had to swallow dryly a few times till he found his voice again.

It was so small. It was bigger than that nutshell his dad had rented for the kelpie hunt but still.

_Kelpies live in rivers_, he reminded himself, or in lakes like one specific creature he had in mind. They couldn't survive in saltwater. So everything would be fine.

They got their things on board and he settled down with Debra on deck while Sam stayed with Dexter at the helm. Dexter even let Sam steer for a while. Apparently he had never seen Sam driving but they didn't hit a riff or anything and on the ocean were remarkable few lampposts to hit so they probably wouldn't play Titanic today.

Then Debra started to unbutton her blouse and Sam and Kelpies were forgotten. Under her clothes she already wore her bikini and with a smug grin she stretched before she made herself comfortable on one of the towels they had laid out.

Dean sat down next to her and got rid of his boots and socks. She helped him with the shirt but the jeans stayed on, thank you very much. Dean rolled them up to his knees, though. Behind his back he could feel Sam grinning.

Dean tried to tie in Dexter into their conversation but it was hard to stay focused with Debra half-naked right next to him. He didn't gather much information anyway.

"Dexter?" Debra asked back and shook her head. "He never got in a bar fight. Fuck, he never gets a parking ticket. I think he hasn't even figured out that you can watch porn on the internet."

"Sounds like Sam." Dean glanced over his shoulder to find said brother caught up in a conversation with Dexter. Geek stuff, but maybe he got more information on his end than Dean got out of Debra.

In the end Dean did the swimming trunks. He looked ridiculous but Debra admired the view so it couldn't be that bad. And Sam with his insane long legs just looked like Big Bird. The yellow trunks were not helping and Dean wondered where he had left his phone to shoot a picture or two. They might come in handy someday.

Before Dean could get to his abandoned jeans where he thought his phone was, Sam caught him with his monkey arms and tried to throw him over board.

"Little bastard." Dean gritted his teeth and tried to get a good angle to shove Sam over board and next thing he knew was that he was under water.

Surprised he swallowed some water and the panic was back.

_I'm drowning!_

With flailing arms he broke the surface. Spitting water he cursed with the little breath he had left. After a moment to gather himself he put the bravado mask back on.

"You two just gonna stand there?" Dean shouted and shoved a wave of water in Sam's face just to wash away that concerned look he found there. Of course Sam had noticed something and there would be questions later. At least Sam didn't push it at the moment and dunked him instead. Prepared for that Dean only felt a spike of panic for a second before his head came up again. He could do this.

The boat wasn't the nutshell and the ocean wasn't that cold lake and the thing that caught him here had a sweeter smile and didn't try to eat him. However, to Sam and Dexter it might looked like he and Debra were trying to eat each other's faces off and they put on a show just for the hell of it.

They were fooling around in the water and it was fun. Dean enjoyed it. He really did.

Then something brushed his leg.

"What the fuck?" Dean shrieked in a not so manly way. Spinning he searched the water around him but couldn't see anything.

_Just a fish_, he tried to calm himself, _or a piece of algae or something._

"What?" Instantly Sam was on alert too, looking around for a threat.

"Something touched my leg." He was still scanning the water but couldn't find anything. "And no, it wasn't Debra."

Dean fought to keep his breathing under control. Some part of him waited for something to snatch his leg and drag him down.

"Sure there are no sharks around here, man?" He halfheartedly joked.

"Nothing in this waters is dangerous to a man." Dexter assured him and Debra threw her arms around his neck and attempted to kiss him again but he ducked away.

"I think I'm done swimming." With a few strong strokes Dean was back at the ladder and up a second later. He could feel their concerned looks in his back – especially Sam's – but he didn't care.

Dean dried himself off and by the time the others had come on board as well he had himself under control.

"You alright?" Sam whispered low enough so that the others wouldn't hear him.

"I'm fine." Dean insisted and silently asked Sam to drop it. Sam looked at him hard for a moment and then slightly nodded which could be translated to "we'll talk about it later".

"Who else is hungry?" Dean rubbed his hands looking from one to the other. Debra opened her mouth to say something but then changed her mind.

"I'm starving." She said instead of whatever had been on her lips. She threw the wet towel she had used to the floor and opened one of her bags. They settled down to eat and after a few minutes the mood had once again lightened.

Leaning back Dean let the story about LaGuerta and Masuka Debra was telling wash over him and he didn't complain when not long after that Dexter suggested to go back.

_No more boats_, Dean swore and kept his eyes on the land appearing in the distance. _No more fucking boats._

Dean could sense the "I want to talks about it" vibe Sam radiated. Of course he wanted to talk about it even if there was nothing to actually talk about. Dean was fine.

At least Sam kept his trap shut till they were back at the motel.

"Okay." Sam had unpacked their bag, hung the wet stuff in the shower to dry, sat down on his bed facing Dean and now wanted to talk.

"What happened out there?"

Dean sat on his bed with the TV on and had no idea what he was watching. It didn't keep Sam from asking, though. For a long second Dean pretended that he hadn't heard the question.

"Where?" He finally asked, playing it dumb.

"In the water." Sam reminded him with _that_ expression and snatched the remote to mute the TV. "When you thought something touched you."

"Something touched my leg." Dean pointed out. What? Didn't Sam believe him? Didn't he trust his instincts? That the hell?

"It's the ocean. There are tons of harmless stuff in it." Sam leaned closer bridging the gap between the beds. "You usually don't freak out over a fish."

"I didn't freak out." After that thing had brushed his leg he hadn't felt like being in the water anymore. So he left, so what?

"Yeah, you did." Sam just couldn't let it go, couldn't he? "And you panicked when we jumped into the water, too."

"Did not." He knew it was a childish thing to say but what else should he say? Sam went silent and Dean could hear the wheels turning in his head. Sometimes Sam was just too smart for his own good.

"You didn't like the idea of a boat trip from the beginning." Of course Sam had noticed that as well. "You jumped at the at the opportunity to cancel the trip when I felt upset about it because it reminded me of Jess." Something flashed over his face – guilt most likely – but Dean didn't want to look his brother in the eye at the moment.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said and he really sounded sorry. What for Dean had no idea.

"Did Dexter tell you something useful?" Dean tried to change the topic.

"Not really." Sam played along. For the moment. "When he talks about Doakes there's no emotion behind it, you know, no anger or hate or relief that he is dead, nothing. So whatever has been between them it couldn't have been that bad."

"Or it has been one-sided." Dean pointed out. "It only takes one to become a vengeful spirit."

Sam nodded but still looked doubtful. "Yeah, but wouldn't he lash out on Dexter first?"

"Hmm." They fell in thoughtful silence for a while.

"You never had a problem with water before." Sam said and on the inside Dean groaned. Like a fucking terrier with a fucking bone.

"Hey, you jumped in the lake without a second thought to save that kid. What was his name? Lucas, that's him. You saved him and you were fine."

Back then Dean didn't have time to think about anything. He had reacted. The kid had been in danger and he had reacted. Simple as that. And if he had a few nightmares after that, it didn't really matter. Nothing Doctor Jack couldn't cure, right?

"See?" Dean stood up and went for the mini fridge. He needed a drink but that would only make Sam more suspicious than he already was. As if that was even possible. So Dean went for a beer. And awesome big brother he was, he got one for Sam too. Not that that little brat deserved such kindness.

"I'm fine."

"Dean." Sam took the beer but used the opportunity to brush Dean's hand as well and looked up at him with that look in his eyes. "What happened?"

How was he supposed to stand that look? Dean hadn't figured out that trick in the past twenty years and wouldn't in the next twenty seconds.

"Nothing." He tried but it was a lost cause. He knew it and Sam for sure knew it as well. Taking a sip from his beer he stalled for a moment longer.

"Dean."

Another sip. "You were in Stanford." He stared at the mute TV. "Me and Dad, we were up in Minnesota hunting a kelpie in one of that damn lakes."

Taking another sip he felt Sam's gaze on him.

"October in Minnesota, we were freezing our asses off. The air smelled of snow and Dad got this nutshell he called a boat. The kelpie just looked wrong at that thing and it capsized." Suddenly his mouth was way too dry and his eyes too wet. He blinked and took another sip, neither helped. "It got its teeth into my leg and dragged me down."

The feeling of cold and pain and can't breath was back. Drowning wasn't as peaceful as Hollywood wanted them to think. And with a kelpie gnawing at your leg it was anything but peaceful.

"God." Sam sounded close to tears but Dean refused looking at him.

"Anyway." Dean cleared his throat. "Next thing I know is laying on the shore and Dad giving me mouth to mouth. Cracked a few ribs, too." He cracked a smile. "Tell you what, pneumonia isn't fun with cracked ribs." He didn't tell the part where they both nearly froze to death in the cold October night in Minnesota, both of them wet to the bones and all that. How they made the long track back to the car. Or the two weeks in the hospital after that with pneumonia and an infected leg. He didn't remember much of that two weeks anyway.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Maybe Sam sensed the untold part of the story, maybe not, Dean couldn't care less. He was done storytelling.

"I need a drink."


	14. Chapter 14

I wanted to kill somebody. I needed to kill somebody. I needed to be in control again.

I was eighty-five percent sure that Dean Winchester didn't belong on my table. At least I couldn't pin a single death on him. Maybe he and his brother were like me or not, I couldn't proof it.

The boat trip had been fun but I didn't gather new information except for the fact that Sam and Dean were also searching for answers. Answers to questions leading to me.

_Don't get caught,_ Harry kept telling me. He didn't say it – not yet – but killing the Winchesters might be the only way to not get caught in the end. Which put me in the same dilemma I had with Doakes. I was pretty sure they were not cold-blooded murderers which meant I couldn't kill them. Not without violating the code and I couldn't do that. Stick to the code and everything is fine.

On the other hand I always could turn them in. I just needed to say a word to Deb or Angel and the Winchesters would be behind bars in seconds. Probably telling the story about the supposed to be dead but still active serial killer to everybody willing to listen. And LaGuerta would listen. So no, that wasn't really an option.

However, the whole situation put me under pressure and the urge to kill grew by the second.

I tried to concentrate on work. There was still the case with the beaten drug dealer and the shot thug and we still had no idea who the other guy was. Some tests were still running - real life never worked like those cheesy cop shows on TV – but so far nothing.

I had another look at the pictures from the crime scene. I didn't really hope to find anything but it kept me busy.

"Hello." I had a closer look. "You don't belong there."

The room had been searched by the killer after he had shot Vince so the blood didn't show the usual pattern anymore but even that did not explain the smear near the window. The pictures didn't give me more to go on – that part of the room hadn't been the focus of the crime – so I decided to drive there to have a closer look.

The apartment was still sealed off and the chaos inside was still the same minus the dead body in the middle of it. The metallic smell of blood was heavy in the air and I had to open a window to actual breathe in there. A few days in the Miami heat and the blood had started to decompose fast. Not that the smell in here had been any better the first time I had been in this apartment.

Breathing through my mouth I went to work. The smear near the window. From most angles it was hidden by the couch and it must have been dumb luck that it had made its way on one of the crime scene pictures. So I only felt half dumb for not noticing it when I had analyzed the place earlier.

I took a sample and maybe I'd just found the killer. The window faced the backyard – a meager spot of brownish grass – with a shed at the far end. Through the kitchen I went outside searching the yard for more blood. And I found some. Not much but it was a trace to follow. A short trace which led to the shed.

I can't say who was more surprised. Me or the guy laying in there.

"Hey man." He said with a grin and an unhealthy cough. His shirt was crusty from dried blood and a bloody knife lay next to him along with bags of what I assumed was heroin. At least what the guy had left of it after days of laying here dying without the courage to actually end it. Empty water bottles and wrappers from candy bars covered the floor around him. Somebody had made himself a nice little hiding spot back here. Maybe that was the only reason he was still alive.

I stepped closer taking in the scene. "So Vince got you before you shot him."

"Bastard had a knife." He gestured weakly to the knife on the floor. "But I got him good for that."

"And those are the drugs you took from David Rico." I guessed.

"That son of a bitch betrayed us. Kept the money, kept the drugs." He laughed hollowly followed by a rattle in his chest. "Same with Vince. Wouldn't share. Tried to betray me but I'm too smart." He tapped his temple with his finger still grinning at me.

Completely stoned. I wondered if he even realized that he sat there in his on piss and shit, seriously injured while he was in lala-land. I guessed not. At least he didn't seem to feel any pain.

"You don't look so good." I said and crouched forward. "Let me have a look."

"You a doctor or something?" Sizing me up he tilted his head but let me pull back his soiled shirt.

"Or something."

The gash wasn't that bad. Or hadn't been three days ago. The ribs had deflected the knife and probably saved his life. Disinfected and stitched up it wouldn't have been a problem but by now it was infected and even with an immediate trip to the ER I doubted he would make it in the end. Junkies weren't known for their strong immune system anyway.

"What's your name?" Not that it really mattered but I liked to know who I had in that little box of mine.

"What the fuck do you care?" He spat at me without heat. "Jack Harris." He added after a second.

I pondered my options. Stoned and injured like he was Jack wouldn't go anywhere in the near future. Or ever. But he wouldn't die in the next few hours either. Or so I hoped.

I needed to do this right. I needed my ritual.

"Okay, Jack. Stay here." I said in my best calming voice. "I'll get you help."

"Don't hurry, man." His breath hit me in the face and I fought my gag reflex. "I've a sweet setup here."

"Sure, man." But in my head I was already planning my next steps. I needed my tools and a quiet place.

I drove home to my apartment where I met Debra.

Damn, I'd hoped she would still be at work. Through the ajar door I could see her changing clothes. Hastily I turned around. Technically underwear wasn't that different from the bikini I had seen her wearing a million times and still it was something completely different.

"Where have you been?" She asked ransacking through her outfits while practically sitting half-naked on my tools hidden in the trunk in the wardrobe.

If only she knew. And I really hoped she'd never find out who her brother really was. What kind of monster.

"Had to check something at the scene." I yelled and wondered how long she would need in there and how I was supposed to get my tools without her noticing.

"Found anything?" She sounded muffled like she had something over her head.

"Nope." While I waited I could use the time to eat something. I had a busy night ahead. "You want a sandwich?"

She stuck her head out for a moment. "Thanks, but I'm going out with Dean."

At least she would be busy herself and wouldn't have time to wonder what big brother was up to in the middle of the night. Good. This had been a lot easier back when I'd lived here alone. Time for little sister to get her own place. At least then she wouldn't get between me and my tools or would fuck wanted criminals in my bed. Yes, in that order.

I made the sandwich and fired up my laptop. Eating I checked out Jack Harris. His name came up with a crime history. Drugs, vandalism, break and entry, violence. The usual stuff. Apparently David Rico had been his first murder but it only had been a matter of time. No address and next of kin was an aunt in Albuquerque and nobody had filed a missing person's report despite the fact that he had been missing for a few days now.

With a smile on my lips I finished my sandwich. So the chances were good that the Winchesters wouldn't connect the soon to be dead Jack Harris to the Bay Harbor Butcher. I hate that name.

After endless minutes Debra came out of the bedroom fully clothed and spread her arms in a "what do you think?" manner.

_It covers your body_, would have been my first answer for which she would probably hit me. So I went for: "Looks good."

She grinned and then bit her bottom lip in a way which meant she wanted to ask something.

"You staying at Rita's tonight?" She finally asked.

"Don't know." I honestly hadn't thought about that. Kill Jack, get rid of Jack, that was the plan for tonight. Where I would sleep was the last of my concerns. But then it dawned me. "Oh, you want the place for yourself. And Dean. Okay."

"Only if it's really okay with you."

"Sure." Just go and let me get my tools, I have somebody to kill.

She hugged me and then finally left. I waited a few minutes just to make sure she wouldn't come back because she'd forgotten something before I got my tools and was on my way back to Jack.

Tonight was the night.

"Hey, Jacky." I greeted him when I opened the door to the shed. He sat there with his back against the wall and a loopy grin on his face just like before.

"Hey, man." He sounded happy and I wondered if he had taken some more of his stash. And how that would interfere with the tranquilizer. Didn't want to kill him on the way to kill him. This had to be done right. Too bad the shed was too small and cramped for my needs and the apartment was still a crime scene. So I had to get Jacky to one of the quiet places I knew. I liked to use places with a meaning for my victims, something personal. In this case it wasn't possible, but that was not the important part of the ritual anyway. A nice touch but not essential.

When Jacky woke up, everything was ready. I even had pictures of David Rico and Vince printed out and on display.

"Hi." I came close to him so that he could see me. With the head fixated on the table it was always hard for my victims to actually have a look around. Not that there was much to see despite plastic and the things I wanted them to see. Pictures of the people they had killed. They had to understand why I had chosen them, why they had to die.

As soon as Jack realized that something was terrible wrong he started to scream behind the gag.

"You killed two people." I ignored the screaming and pointed at the pictures. "Two people to get some drugs. And then you get stabbed and what? Hey, I've enough drugs for the rest of my life."

More often than not I didn't understand people. In some cases I was glad that I didn't understand them.

I freed him from the gag just to hear if he had something constructive to say. Most hadn't but you never know. He started to ramble about how unfair life was and why I didn't just go and fuck myself. I didn't think he fully understood the situation stoned as he still was. With a sigh I gagged him again and reached for the scalpel.

The tension bled out of my body like the blood out of his. Almost poetic.

For a moment I enjoyed the quiet. Only my own breathing and the tripping of the blood broke the silence. This was peace.

Then the quiet trip with the boat into the night. Just me and the ocean and pieces of Jack Harris carried away with the gulf stream. No people to judge me, no Winchesters to chase me.

After a while I turned the boat and went home to Rita.


	15. Chapter 15

"You know she's a cop." Sam pointed out while Dean was shaving in the bathroom.

"Hmm." Of course he knew. But hey, she hadn't figured it out the last few days and she probably won't the next. And it wasn't like they would stay here forever.

"Just saying." Sam continued.

"I heard you." Dean put aftershave on and styled his hair. One last look – awesome as always – and he was ready to go. He gathered his things.

"Hey Sammy." He hold up the EMF meter. "When was the last time you had a meter with you on a date?" He thought about it for a second. "Scratch that, when was the last time you have been on a date?"

"Ha, ha." Sam shot him a worried look. "You sure you can sweep Dexter's apartment with Debra around?"

"Believe me, she'll be tired."

"Dude, way too much information." Sam threw his hands up.

Dean smirked and pocketed the lock-picks. He'd like to take a gun or a knife with him but he was expecting Debra to wrestle him out of his clothes and she better did not find any weapons on him. Maybe just the ankle knife? He won't go out naked.

"You are such a prude." Making his little brother blush was the privilege of being the older brother. "You're covering Rita?"

Sam nodded. "I'll wait till you come back with the car tomorrow. By then Dexter and the kids should be out of the house. However, I really doubt she has something helpful to say."

"I don't know. If there has been something going on between Doakes and Dexter the persons to know about would be Debra or Rita." If the family didn't know who would? "Or we can just ask Dexter if he has seen any ghosts lately."

"Let's keep that in mind as the last option." Sam suggested. He stretched out on the bed obviously waiting for Dean to leave.

"What? Have a date with an adult movie and your right hand?" Dean teased and ducked the pillow flying in his direction. "Watch the merchandise."

Holding his hands protectively over his styled hair he got out of the room before Sam could find something else to throw.

At least Debra would appreciate the work he'd put into his appearance.

Dinner, a movie – a 3D action movie, which girl would enjoy something like that with him? – and then a few beers in a little bar Debra knew.

"So I stood there in nothing but my underwear." Dean said and gave her a moment to picture the scene. "And the two girls in front of me looked at me and asked where the popcorn was."

Debra burst out laughing. "And you … you … did you?"

"Yeah." Dean chuckled. God, had he been young and stupid. He took a sip from his beer. "I totally did."

"Fuck." Debra still tried to catch her breath. "That reminds me of Ed Cunningham, the boy I went to prom with." She managed to gulp in some more air between the words. "Never seen somebody blush like that before."

They stayed at the bar for a while, exchanging embarrassing stories before they moved on to Dexter's apartment.

"You sure Dexter isn't home?" Dean had to ask when Debra fumbled with the keys.

"He's over at Rita's." Debra grinned and pulled him into the apartment by the collar of his shirt. When they reached the bedroom they both were already mostly naked.

And just like he had predicted Debra was very tired not soon after that. With her sleeping in his arm Dean lay there in the dark and stared at the ceiling. To bad this had to end soon. But he wasn't a man for a relationship, he knew that. He placed a kiss on top of her hair and then slipped out of the bed. She didn't even stir.

"Sleeping like a baby." He whispered and searched his clothes for the EMF meter. He turned the sound off, however, the lights would give him a good enough reading on their own.

The couch where Dexter usually slept stood out as well as some other places Dean assumed Dexter spent a lot of time there. Anywhere else he found the EMF above the average but on a steady level. He was just about to search the closet in the bedroom when Debra peeked up.

"D'n?" She mumbled half asleep. "Come back to bed."

He slid back under the covers and had her arms around his chest a second later. He wanted to wait till she was asleep again but then his eyes slid shut too.

The next thing he knew was Debra bolting upright next to him with a hearty "Fuck!" on her lips.

"What?" He was on alert in a heartbeat searching for the threat.

"I'm late again, fuck." She stumbled out of the bed and into the bathroom.

"Oh." Dean fell back into the pillow. It was warm and soft and he could still smell Debra and the lingering aroma of sex and sweat. He wondered if she still had time for a quickie. When she came in a minute later jumping on one leg while she tried to put her pants on, he figured the answer to that was no.

"Is it okay if I take the offered shower this time?" Dean asked and made no attempt to get out of the bed just yet. Instead he made sure she had a clear view on his naked chest.

"Sure." Her look told him she was thinking about that quickie too but in the end work won. Damn, he hated jobs with fix working hours.

She bent over to kiss him and then she was out of the door.

However, this was the perfect opportunity to search the apartment. In broad daylight and with nobody around to interrupt. Perfect. But the shower first.

Dean swept the apartment a second time – this time with the sound turned on – but found nothing new.

"Okay, what have we here?" He opened the closet and found a black trunk at the bottom. The meter spiked up but not by much. After some searching he found a hidden compartment but it was empty.

"Another dead-end." Dean muttered and sat on the trunk for a moment. Nothing in the apartment indicated something supernatural. Except for the unusual high EMF level but they had known that Dexter had that aura around him.

So whatever tied Doakes to Dexter he either had it on him or it was over at Rita's.

Dean pulled his phone out and called Sam.

"Where are you?" He asked as soon as Sam had picked up.

"Uhm? At the motel?" He answered clearly confused. "Waiting for you so I can take the car to talk to Rita?"

"Right." He had forgotten. "Nothing in the apartment. The reading is higher than usual but nothing more."

"So it's on him." Dean could practically hear his brother thinking. "Or somewhere else."

They sighed in unison. If they didn't find anything at Rita's, they had no clue where to look next.

"Okay, I'll find out if Dexter owns property around here or if he has rented a storage room or something like that." Sam offered but they both knew it was a very long shot.

"Do that, I'll be there soon." Dean shut the phone and got in the car.

While he drove Dean tried to think. They knew jack squat for sure in this case. The only thing they really knew for sure was that Dexter left a trace of EMF. So yeah, Doakes could haunt him, could have taken over last night and went on a killing spree for all they knew. Or not. Maybe Dexter had a quiet night with Rita. Who knew?

At the motel Dean went over the facts with Sam one more time.

"I still want to talk to Rita first." Sam insisted. "We need as much information as we possible can get. Maybe she knows what he has on him."

"And then we should talk to Dexter." Dean nodded grimly.

"Dean, you know we have only the EMF reading as proof. No way he'll believe us." Sam juggled the keys in his hand not looking his brother in the eye. But Dean knew what he was thinking. Telling Dexter the truth meant he would start asking questions himself, maybe talking to Debra and then it was only a matter of time till the handcuffs came out. And not in a kinky way.

"If he is haunted he should have noticed something by now." Dean said.

"I've asked him all the weird questions." Sam reminded him. "He hasn't noticed anything."

"Or he thinks it's crazy and didn't say a word." Dean tried but he knew that was most likely not the case. Sam knew the signs of lying, he was good at his job, he knew the telltales. If Dexter had been lying Sam would have noticed. It would need a very professional lair to fool a Winchester and c'mon Dexter was the lab geek.

"Okay." Sam opened the door. "I'll see if Rita has something to say. When I'm back we can figure out what to do next." And with that he was gone. Dean sagged on his bed and stretched out. The only thing he could do now was to wait and he hated it. Shortly he had considered to go with Sam but some things they did better alone. Sam on his own would get more information out of Rita than with Dean hanging around.

So he waited. Got some breakfast and waited. Read the file LaGuerta had given them. Interesting but not really helpful.

It was in the early afternoon when Sam finally called that he would be back in a few minutes.

"Sorry, it took me so long." He said when he entered the room with a plastic food container in his hand. "She wouldn't let me go without lunch. Brought you some, too."

It was still warm so Dean dug in while Sam reported.

"While she was in the kitchen I made a quick round with the meter." Sam sat across him and stretched out his legs. "Got a high reading just like you. At least in the rooms I think he uses the most, bedroom, bathroom, living room. Nothing really in the kid's rooms."

"Hmm." Dean agreed with his mouth full. Damn, that woman could cook. For a second he closed his eyes and just let the taste overwhelm him. Meat loaf with thick sauce and macaroni, he was in heaven. "Seriously dude, we need more cases with home-cooked meals." Dean licked his lips.

"Most monsters want to cook and eat us." Sam reminded him but Dean didn't let that image dim his appetite. "Anyway, according to Rita Dexter is the best thing that happened to her in her life. Her ex, Paul Bennett, has been an ass who died in prison a while back and now Dexter is like a daddy for Astor and Cody." Sam shuddered.

"What?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know. She showed me a picture of her ex-husband and I tell you that guy gives me the creeps." He shrugged as if he wanted to get rid of the image in his head.

"A picture of a dead guy gives you the creeps?" Dean couldn't help but shake his head in disbelieve. "Oh, man."

"Yeah, yeah, very funny." Sam folded his arms in front of his chest but then he frowned.. "What if we are looking for the wrong ghost?"

Dean licked the last of the sauce from his fingers but stopped mid-motion at that idea.

"You think dead daddy dearest is haunting his replacement?" Wouldn't be the first time. Most vengeful spirits had a personal agenda. And who knew? Maybe Dexter and Rita had a thing running while she had still been with that guy. If he'd died in prison Dexter was most likely not responsible for his death but Mr Ex could easily hold a grudge against him.

"Don't know." Sam curled his lips. "Maybe?"

"Okay." Dean shoved the dishes away. "Fact still is that Dexter is haunted one way or the other, right?"

"Right." Sam cringed as if he didn't like which way this conversation headed. Dean didn't like it either.

"So it's time to talk to him."

* * *

A/N In case you wondered, Rita's ex, the late Paul Bennett, was portrayed by Mark Pellegrino. I couldn't resist.


	16. Chapter 16

They got me. I shut my phone and stared into nothingness. They knew and they got me. I had no idea how they'd figured it out but they knew.

Sam had just called and asked if I could come over after work. He and Dean wanted to go over some facts for that book of theirs. Sure.

For a second I considered to tell Deb everything. Not really everything, of course, but about the Winchesters. It would be one serial killer accusing the other one and unlike me Dean Winchester was a wanted man. Accused of murder. Who would believe him?

_LaGuerta,_ answered Harry right next to me. _And Debra maybe too. At least it would raise some unpleasant questions. Rule number one, Dexter. Don't get caught._

I sat in my office and stared at the screen of my computer but my thoughts were elsewhere.

What to do, what to do?

I could run away. Just walk out of the door and drive to the marina and in about an hour I would be out on the ocean. I could disappear.

I had an In-case-of-emergency-plan to leave everything behind and start over somewhere else. But was this a case of emergency? I wasn't sure.

Did the Winchesters have valid proof? If so I couldn't turn them in without endangering myself.

If they knew but couldn't proof it, what was their plan of action? Kill me? Not if I got them first. And I had the element of surprise on my side. I knew who they were.

_You have to be smart about this,_ Harry continued. It was unnatural cold in my office and I wondered if it actually was cold or if it came from inside me. My heart was racing and I felt alive and at the same time this bone-deep chill numbed me.

I couldn't risk getting them arrested. Maybe they had found something to compromise me. For the life of mine – literally – I couldn't think of anything the Winchester brothers could have found but that didn't mean anything. I couldn't risk it. Not without knowing what they knew.

Which left two options: Run away probably for no good reason at all or play their game and take them down before they took me down.

And I had to admit, I was curious.

So after work I prepared two syringes with tranquilizer and drove over to the Blue Starfish Motel. My case with the tools was still in my car – sloppy I knew but this time it came in handy – but I left it there. For the moment.

I parked out of sight and surveyed the area before I got out of the car. The parking lot was mostly empty, just two cars and Dean's black Impala, and the motel itself seemed quiet. However, screaming or shooting would draw attention. Something I wasn't looking for and neither were the Winchesters. I should be prepared for an attack from behind, quick and quiet, that was the only way they could put me down in a place like this. Maybe they'd use the same tranquilizer as I did. Wouldn't that be ironic?

I made sure the syringes were in place, then I took a deep breath and walked over to the motel. Instead of heading towards the door I went around to have a look through the back window. Good thing I'd been here before and knew the layout of their room. Through the curtains I saw Dean laying on his bed watching TV while Sam sat at the table with his laptop. They both seemed relaxed and content. If I didn't knew better I would have believed the story about them just being journalists.

While I walked around to the front door I rolled my head and loosened up my shoulders just to be ready. After another deep breath I put on my I'm-completely-harmless-smile and knocked.

A second later Sam opened the door a crack and peeked out, guarded, alert. When he recognized me and had made sure that I was alone he opened the door farther.

"Dexter." With a warm smile he invited me in. "Glad you could make it."

He stepped aside so I could walk past him but I made sure to not turn my back towards him. He made no attempt to jump me and Dean only turned the TV off and moved from laying to sitting on the bed. Both of them didn't show any signs of aggressiveness at all. So far so good.

I stepped through the door and over something that looked like salt? Why would somebody lay out a thick line of salt in front of the door? Anyway, I stepped over it and I had to admit for a second I was so on edge that I felt a cold shiver running over my whole body.

On the table lay the same chaos of papers I'd seen the last time I'd been there, maybe with some additional pieces but nothing I could identify as something pointing in my direction. At least not at first sight.

"Please, have a seat." Sam offered me a chair and took the other one. Dean stayed where he was, too far away to interfere if things went downhill quickly. I kept him in the corner of my eye but I focused on Sam who was close enough to try something.

"You said you have some more questions about the case?" I prompted and wondered how long they would stay with their story.

Sam visibly worked up the courage to say what he wanted to say but Dean beat him to it.

"Seen any dead people lately?" He asked with a serious expression.

"Dean." His brother warned him with a glare which Dean just shrugged off.

I blinked. That was not the kind of question I had expected. Was he referring to my victims? I decided to not misinterpret it.

"It's my job to analyze murder crime scenes." I offered. "Of course I've seen dead people."

Dean shook his head in amusement. "That's not exactly what I mean." He exchanged a look with his brother before he continued. "What I meant is: Have you seen Doakes lately?"

"Doakes?" I must have misunderstood him.

"Big, bald, black guy?" Dean helped me out. "Likes to dump people in garbage bags in the ocean."

No misunderstanding, then.

"You think he's alive?" They had spend days going through every piece of evidence in this case. Including the dental record that without a doubt proofed that James Doakes was dead.

"No." Sam interrupted with an unsure smile. "No, he is dead. We know that."

"Then why …?" I looked from one to the other. They didn't try to kill me or accused me of being a serial killer, so this wasn't that bad, wasn't it?

"I know this sounds weird." Dean continued. "But we think Doakes is still around killing people."

"Maybe." Sam spoke up again. "To be honest we already thought we were wrong but …" He made a vague gesture in my direction.

For a moment I just sat there and tried to make sense out of what they were saying.

"Okay let's start with the basics." Sam suggested. "Hear us out before running off, will you?"

I doubted they would just let me go at least not without a fight so I nodded, willing to listen.

"Ghosts are real." Dean said bluntly and once again shrugged off the glance his brother shot him.

"Ghosts?" Okay, they were insane.

Dean reached for something on the nightstand and for a second I tensed up expecting a gun or something like that but he hold up the gadget Cody had found in their car the other day. At the moment it was turned off.

"This is an EMF meter." Dean explained and when he noticed my puzzled expression he added: "Electro-magnetic field, a signature which indicates ghost activity." He flipped the meter on and the lights started to flicker and it gave a whining noise.

Coming near me that thing went wild. Dean waved it around a little bit and I couldn't deny it, next to Sam or Dean or even somewhere in the room it settled down to one light or two but next to me it lit up all the way.

It could be a trick, of course, it had to be but why should they do that?

"What does this mean?" I eyed the meter closely and let out a breath of relief when Dean turned it off.

"This means that there is most likely a ghost attached to you." Sam said and looked at me with a little smile.

"A ghost?" I repeated. "Attached to me?"

"You must think we're insane." Dean stated and sat back down on the bed, the meter forgotten next to him.

Yes, I thought they were insane. But that was only my second thought. My first thought, however, was Harry.

"You expect me to believe in ghosts?" At least they didn't think I was a serial killer. So that so-called confession of Dean's in Baltimore hadn't only been a distraction? They really believed in ghosts?

"You better should." Dean said in a very serious way. If this was a joke neither of them was laughing. "Because if Doakes is attached to you he could use you to kill. Maybe already did."

"To kill?" Insane or not, this was way to close to the truth for my liking.

"Well, look." Sam spread out the papers. "This is a very vague theory and honestly without that EMF reading we would call this one a bust but …" He laid out some newspaper articles – one of them with the picture of Cecilia Wright – and other papers.

"We think these people didn't just disappear. We think they are dead." He tapped each one with his finger. There were still some faces in the mix I didn't know but most of them were quite familiar. I half expected to find Jack Harris among them but he wasn't there.

"And what?" I tried to joke about it. I am not very good at joking even when I'm not accused of murder. "You think I did it?"

"No." Sam said while his brother answered: "Yes."

Confused they looked at each other before Sam tried to clarify: "We think Doakes did it. But it's possible that he used you to do it." He ducked his head as if he expected me to hit him. Instead I just stared at him. They thought I killed those people – and there were right about that – but they also thought a ghost made me do it? They were totally nuts.

But then once again Harry came to mind. Maybe they were after the wrong ghost? But Harry was just a part of my imagination, a projection of my sick brain. Or was he?

"Wouldn't I notice something?" For the moment I decided to play along.

"That's what we want to find out." Sam set his elbows on the table and looked at me. "Do you lose time? Ever woke up somewhere without remembering how you got there?"

"No." I answered honestly. They weren't a threat. They were caught up in their delusions. Nobody would ever believe them even if they would accuse me.

"Have you noticed any cold spots? Did you see your breath condensate?" Sam asked the next bunch of questions.

I was about to say _no_ when I remembered the cold I'd felt earlier. Sometimes when I saw Harry the temperature dropped. I never thought much about it but now I wondered.

"That's a yes?" Dean sat up straighter. "What about flickering lights or clocks stopping without a reason?"

Sometimes I "worked" in old, abandoned houses where the wiring wasn't the best but I couldn't say if that had something to do with Harry. But I couldn't eliminate that possibility either.

"I'm not sure." What were they saying, that Harry was actually a ghost haunting me?

"That's okay." Sam smiled at me and I think it was meant in a comforting way. "We are here to help."

"Anyway." Dean obviously wasn't the comforting type. "Ghosts are usually tied to a place that means something to them. Where they died or lived or where their remains are."

"Remains?" When did this conversation get so out of my control?

"Their body or something like a lock of their hair, things like that." Sam explained. "Or they are tied to an object which meant something to them."

"Okay." I had no idea what to think any more. This was without a doubt the weirdest conversation I ever had.

"Do you have something on you that belonged to Doakes?" Sam prompted. "Or maybe something with his blood on it?"

"No." I was sure of that and I was pretty sure that Doakes wasn't haunting me. I wasn't so sure about Harry.


	17. Chapter 17

Dexter wasn't running for the hills the second Dean started to talk about ghosts so that was a plus in his book. But of course he didn't pull out something that had belonged to Doakes or had his blood on it, that would have been too easy.

So when Dean asked about what could possible tie Doakes to Dexter he had no idea what Dean was talking about.

"Honestly?" Dean waved his hands in frustration. "Before we knew about that ghost aura of yours we were pretty sure this case was a bust. We have found nothing which would bring Doakes back in the picture but he was our only candidate. But then …" He trailed off.

"But then Rita told me about Paul." Sam finished the sentence.

For a second Dexter looked confused. "You spoke to Rita about this? When?"

Sam cringed. "Earlier today." He admitted. "We needed to know if there is something in the house to what the ghost might be attached. Then she told me about her ex-husband. That he died in prison. I didn't tell her anything about ghosts whatsoever."

Dexter sat back in his chair with a sigh. "You know this is insane, right? And if you or your brother talk to her about this stuff again …"

"We won't." Sam hurried to say and Dean twitched on the edge of the bed he was sitting on. Nobody threatened his little brother. But then something occurred to him.

"Why would you think we are brothers?" They had said they where partners, journalists who wanted to write a book. Dean was pretty sure neither of them had mentioned that they were brothers.

Dexter's expression hardened and he looked Dean straight in the eye.

"I know who you are." He said and Dean's insides turned into ice. He could see Sam craning his neck to look out of the window to check if there were the police in sight. He didn't jump so there was probably nothing. Dean turned his attention back to Dexter.

"And that would be?" Dean played it cool, not revealing anything.

"Sam and Dean Winchester." Dexter stated the obvious with a shrug.

"You know?" Sam just had to ask. "Since when?"

"Your faces were familiar the second you two walked in the first day." His gaze was on Dean. "I looked you up right after that."

In Dean's mind scenarios started to play. Were they in danger? Should they run? What was Dexter up to?

Still an eye out to the parking lot Sam settled down a bit but Dean wondered where his nearest weapon was. Just in case.

"Why didn't you get us arrested?" Sam played his "I'm harmless and only here to talk" role but Dean could see the tension in his shoulders. They were both like springs, ready to snap, however, Dexter just sat there with that curious expression on his face. He was wary too but who could blame him? He was in the same room as some wanted serial killers and he'd just revealed that he knew that.

"I did my homework and I don't think the FBI got your case right." He smiled at Dean but it looked forced and didn't reach his eyes. "Hey, I let you date my sister."

"He has a point there." Dean relaxed a bit and looked over to Sam. They nodded in agreement, let's play this by ear was the message.

"Why do you think the FBI got the case wrong?" Dean asked. "Usually everybody follows the crowd and never questions the old cases. They only add new charges. Not that we actually can explain what's really going on." He spread his hand in a "What can you do?" way.

"What _is_ really going on?" Dexter leaned forwards and seemed willing to listen. "I know you didn't kill the women in St. Louis, Dean."

"You know that?" Sam beat Dean to the question but that was probably good. It showed Dexter that Sam believed in his brother.

"Same handwriting every single time." Dexter started to explain. "But the one who did it was different. Different high, weight and strength. One was even left-handed." He shook his head as if he still didn't believe what he had found out. "And that girl in the bank? She shouldn't have been there. I'm not sure what happened there but I can tell you she didn't bleed like a human being. Honestly, that picture looked like something our of Hollywood to me."

_Ah_, Dean thought. _That's what's going on. He found some facts he can't explain and he wants answers._

And it would be hypocritical for Dean to blame Dexter for seeking answers by breaking into their motel room. However, Dexter had found enough to ask question so that made it easier to convince him that he had a real ghost problem.

"Shapeshifters." Was Sam's answer to Dexter's question.

"Shape-what?"

So Sam explained the shapeshifter concept while Dean had a close eye on Dexter. He was willing to listen and seemed fascinated by the skin-shedding but something was off. Everything about Dexter was guarded, controlled like he had thought about every little gesture, every expression. Dean hadn't noticed it before and he doubted anybody would notice but this was an extreme situation. Dexter's world was flipping upside down right in this moment and he sat there and discussed shapeshifters with Sam as if it was daily business.

After they had covered the shifters and the life of a hunter in general Sam went over to the matter at hand. Ghosts.

"Salt and iron repel them. So you better keep something on you till we've solved this problem." He gestured around to the thick lines of salt at the windows and the door. "They can't cross a salt line."

Dexter's eyes flickered over to the door and something crossed his face for a second but Dean couldn't read that expression. He couldn't read Dexter at all and usually he was pretty good at reading people.

"So." Sam said. "Maybe it really isn't Doakes. Maybe it's Paul Bennett."

"Paul?"

"We know he died in prison." Dean entered the conversation. "But you are the new man in his ex-wife's life. You are the new daddy to his children. Sometimes that's enough." However, he doubted it. Rita and Paul had been divorced before Rita had even met Dexter. That was vengeful spirit material, yes, but to tie a ghost to a person like that? He wasn't so sure.

"Could you think of a reason he would blame you for his death?" Sam added maybe thinking along the same lines as he did.

Dexter paused for a second before he answered with a "no".

Before they could dig deeper Dexter's phone rang.

"Sorry, gotta go. Work." He looked from one Winchester to the other as if he dared them to hold him back.

"Keep this with you. It's salt." Sam handed him a flask which he took without farther questions. "And think about what could possible tie Paul to you." As an afterthought he added: "Or maybe it's somebody else. Somebody who was close to you."

Dexter promised to think about it and to be in touch. Then he left.

"What do you think?" Dean asked and settled back on the bed.

"I don't know." Sam chewed his bottom lip and glanced out of the window probably watching Dexter getting in his car. For a while they both sat there listening but there were no sirens coming their way. Yeah, as if the police would come with flashing lights and sirens to arrest them.

"He's hiding something." Dean stated and Sam just nodded. In their line of work people always hid something. Because of guilt or fear or they thought nobody would believe them. They had to find out which reason it was for Dexter. And what he hid, of course.

"He believed the shapeshifters, though." Sam leaned back on his chair and looked at the ceiling with its ugly starry sky of blue starfish. "I think. And he didn't turn us in."

"Okay, let's keep an open mind on this." Dean mentally went through the details they had. "Doakes and Dexter had some beef but nothing indicates that there was a level of hate that would explain him being tied to Dexter like this. Somebody would have noticed the burning cars and heated arguments and all that shit people do to each other in hate."

Catching the ball Sam continued. "No Dexter never expressed thoughts like that." He paused for a moment. "We should look into the relationship of Dexter and Paul Bennett, that looks more promising to me. You know, more emotional."

"Hmm." Something still didn't feel right. "What about Dexter?"

"What do you mean?" Sam looked confused and Dean couldn't hide the smug grin. Sometimes his oh so smart little brother missed the obvious.

"We were focused on Doakes and now this Bennett guy." He waved in direction of Sam's notes on the table. "But what do we really know about Dexter? For all we know he could have killed his prom date and is haunted by her ever since."

"He doesn't look the killing type, Dean." Sam joked but he was considering the option.

"Who does?" They had encountered little girls with an appetite for human brains, sweet old ladies who had their neighbors over for "dinner" and the nice gentleman next door who snagged your soul if you weren't careful. Looks meant nothing.

"Good point." Sam opened the laptop. "I'll see what I can find from here." He eyed Dean who had pulled his phone out. "And what are you doing?"

With a grin Dean showed him the display with Debra's name on it. "Hey, we have to use every source we have, right? Does the term pillow-talk mean anything to you?" Like before he had this uneasy feeling in his guts, like it was wrong to use Debra to get information, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right? And it wasn't that he wanted to harm anybody, this was to help her brother. Still, the feeling persisted. He shoved it back in the depths of his mind where he stored the other feelings he didn't want to have.

"Dexter has been called to a crime scene." Sam reminded him. "I doubt Debra has time for you."

"Nah, it's getting late. They'll do nothing more than what's absolutely necessary tonight and leave the rest for tomorrow." The phone rang. "Bet she'll be grateful if I offer her to rub her feet after a long day of work."

"Dude, too much information." With that Sam made a run for the bathroom to give his brother some privacy. How could somebody related to him be so prude, Dean wondered. Even their dad had been very tolerant about Dean's sex life he had developed at an early age. Or maybe he just hadn't noticed at first and later hadn't cared. Before Dean could explore that thought any further Debra picked up. Good timing.

Like he thought Debra was hesitant at first but when he offered to bring take out dinner and to rub her feet later, and everything else she wanted to get rubbed, she laughed and told him to pick her up in an hour.

"You can come back in, Sammy." Dean shouted at the bathroom door. "The adult talk is over."

Sam ignored him on his way back to his place at the window but something was bothering him, Dean could tell. But he waited patiently till his brother would start to talk, however, he was pretty sure he knew what was going on in that kid's mind.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Sam finally asked.

"What's a good idea?" Dean had flicked the TV back on and was zapping through the channels.

"Seeing Debra." Of course, what else. "She's a cop after all and if Dexter tells her …" Sam trailed off.

"Dexter hasn't told her the last few days. And like he said he didn't interfere when we met." Dean pointed out. "He doesn't seem to mind."

"Back then he had his own conclusion of the things they charge us for, charge you for. Now he probably thinks we're nuts. I'm not sure he really believed me." Sam was powering up that puppy dog eyes of his and Dean fixed his eyes on the TV. "Debra for sure will not believe him if he starts to talk about ghosts and shapeshifters but she will belive him if he talks about delusional serial killers."

"He won't." Dean assessed Dexter as somebody who could keep a secret. That much he had figured out about that guy. Question was what else did he keep secret? "Besides when I pick up Debra at the station I might get the chance for a little chat with that Detective Batista. He and Dexter are buddies."

Sam still wasn't fond of that idea but he dropped the topic with a "Be careful."

"I always am." With a grin Dean slipped in the bathroom to get ready for his evening with Debra. Speaking of careful he checked if he had enough condoms on him.


	18. Chapter 18

When I crossed the salt line at the door I felt that cold rushing through my body and that alone told me that there was something about what the Winchesters had said. It was insane, yes, but I'd had my doubts before. The cases from St. Louis and that bank in Milwaukee made sense now. If I was willing to believe in shapeshifters.

I got in my car and Harry sat in the passenger seat.

"Where have you been?" He asked with a layer of steel in his voice.

Hmm, that was odd. Usually Harry seemed to know everything I did. I'd never questioned that before because until now I'd thought he was just a fragment of my damaged mind, part of my imagination, but now the Winchesters had revealed another possible explanation.

"What are you?" I asked instead of an answer.

"Dexter?" He looked at me in confusion. "You know who I am."

Yeah, I knew who he was, about the what I wasn't so sure anymore.

"Where have you been?" He repeated his question now more urgent.

"I met the Winchesters." The flask of salt set heavy in my pocket. I wanted to use it just to see what would happen. I didn't want to hurt Harry or make him angry so I didn't throw the salt at him.

"I couldn't see you. One second you were there the other you were gone. I was worried." Harry confessed. "Are you alright?"

"They have sealed their room with salt." I answered and out of the corner of my eye I watched his reaction. "Apparently it keeps ghosts out."

Silence fell between us for a long moment while I drove.

"Don't go anywhere were I can't see you." Harry said and when I blinked he was gone. I hadn't noticed the temperature dropping but I noticed for sure when it went up again to normal. Weird, those little details I had never paid attention to before.

At the crime scene my mind was busy with work and I forgot about Harry, the Winchesters and ghosts for the moment.

Angel filled me in on the details and after a quick look around the case was pretty clear. Why had they bothered to call me in the first place? A three-year-old could have figured this one out.

"Okay, he attacked her first with the knife here. Stab in the back." I pretended to stab somebody standing at the sink in the kitchen. It was still half full with by then cold water and dirty dishes. "She turned. Stab. Stab. In the chest." My movement mirrored my words. "She went down, tried to crawl away. Stab in the lower back, two stabs in the thorax one of them penetrated the heart." I looked around to make sure that I didn't miss some blood like in the drug case we had worked the other day. It had paid out in my favor with me killing Jack Harris but that had been a rookie mistake I didn't intent to repeat.

"Do you need me here any longer?" I asked my sister who had just finished a phone call. I wanted to go home to think. Too bad I had to share my apartment with Debra. Usually I didn't mind. Much. But in times like this I needed some space for myself.

For a second I thought about telling her about the Winchesters. She would arrest them on the spot, that was for sure. And in their motel room they would find evidence that the Bay Harbor Butcher was still active, enough for LaGuerta to reopen the case and that was something I absolutely didn't want to happen. So I kept my mouth shut and waited for Deb's answer.

"Are you staying at Rita's tonight?" She asked still fiddling with her phone.

"That was Dean, right?" Great, so much for a quiet night at home. Then another thought crossed my mind. Was he really interested in Debra or did he use her like I used people to get information? After we had put the cards on the table – well, they had – it wasn't necessary anymore, right? If they wanted to know something they would ask me.

Debra nodded with her bottom lip between her teeth.

"You know someday you need your own place." I pointed my finger at her while I headed for my car.

"Thanks, Dex." She shouted after me. "You are the best."

Once again I was late for dinner but Rita had saved me some. The kids were ready for bed and after that the house went quiet.

Without prompting Rita told me about Sam's visit earlier that day and as far as I could tell he had been curious about Doakes and later about Paul. Rita hadn't told him about the drugs and that I had been the reason Paul had been in prison that time. Neither had she mentioned my so called addiction. Those were things nobody needed to know. Especially the addiction part. I was kind of an addict but not that kind.

"Long day?" Rita asked. We sat on the couch watching TV. She had her feet in my lap and she watched me from under hooded eyes. At first I thought she was sleepy but the purring noises she made when I gently rubbed her feet told me something else.

"Had been called to a crime scene on my way back home." It was a half-truth but she didn't want to know the details of my work, anyway.

"Oh, baby." She came up till she knelt next to me on the couch and cupped my face with both hands. For a long second she studied me and then she kissed me.

Sometimes, like now, I was in awe that I actually liked this, enjoyed it even. I liked kissing her, I liked sex with her. Concepts that had been alien to me for most of my adulthood, with her it suddenly made sense. I kissed her back and my hands were on her hips and we barely made it to the bedroom.

Later that night Rita slept with her head on my shoulder while I stared sleeplessly at the ceiling. At work and in private I dealt with human monsters on a daily basis. And suddenly there was a whole new world of evil out there. In some ways the Winchesters did the same thing that I did. However, they would probably not understand my interpretation of fighting evil.

In the wee hours of the night when I could pretend to believe in ghosts and monsters, I wondered if I could shift my need and stop hunting humans. Could I do that? The answer was no, I realized.

I had read the Winchester files and in the light of the new information Sam had given me everything made sense in a whole new way. With Harry around I'd accepted the concept of ghost pretty quickly and the shapeshifters answered my questions I had about the other cases and I wondered what other kinds of monsters were out there. Vampires, werewolves? My mind wandered through every horror movie I ever saw. Most of it had to be fake.

However, hunting those thing would mean a lifestyle close to the way the Winchesters lived. Maybe not that nomadic but certainly not with a steady job and a home and a family. Sam had painted a very clear picture of that.

And – and that was the most important fact – hunting monsters instead of humans would mean to let go of the Code, let go of my ritual. Silver through the heart would work for me but burning corpses not so much. I couldn't do that. I needed my ritual. I needed my trophy. I needed things to be in order.

It was one of the ideas you have late at night which looked tempting at first sight but didn't pan out in the end.

Eventually I fell asleep but it wasn't restful. I dreamed of Harry demanding me to stay in sight while the Winchester brothers chased us with giant salt shakers.

In the harsh morning light I could think more clearly about the whole situation. The Winchesters wouldn't leave me alone till my so called ghost-problem was solved.

What did they say? They were here to help. But did I need help? Harry wasn't a threat. Or was he?

In the kitchen the busy family life of the Bennett's buzzed around me but my thoughts were back at what had happened in the car the other day. Harry had been worried.

_Don't go anywhere where I can't see you._ I didn't know if it was meant as an expression of worry or an order or even a threat. There was a lot I didn't know.

"Dexter, you're coming, right?" Cody drew me out of my thoughts.

I blinked at him. "What?"

"Saturday." Rita helped me out. "The day at the beach. You said you can make it."

"The beach?" I repeated. Oh, right we had talked about that. "Sure, wouldn't miss it." I ruffled Cody's hair and smiled at Astor and both seemed satisfied. Handling kids wasn't that bad. And the way Rita looked at me I had to do something right.

"Oh, gotta go." I made a point looking at my watch. "See you all later." _Because Dean and Debra are doing it like rabbits back at my place,_ I thought while I kissed Rita goodbye.

During the drive to the department I thought about ghosts. Was there something like Casper the Friendly Ghost or were they all evil? Sam had told me how to get rid of a ghost with salt or iron for a short time and to salt and burn the corpse for a more permanent solution but nothing about what they actually did.

Their first idea had been that Doakes used me to kill so apparently ghosts could do that. It had sounded like something like that was pretty rare, though. But what else were they capable of? What was Harry capable of?

Mumbling "Morning" to everybody I met I made a bee line for my office. I had some research to do.

Lucky for me my assistance wasn't needed that much today. I had some tests running but the case from yesterday was pretty clear and they were looking for the husband. They were also looking for Jack Harris but they didn't even have a name for him so good luck with that one.

"So Debra." Masuka suddenly spoke up next to me. "She's seeing this Dean guy?" His eyes were fixed on Debra who sat at her table working her way through some files.

"Jep." I said and pretended to be busy with some blood samples. I hoped to scare him off that way.

"Who is he anyway?" Masuka kept going. "A wannabe journalist."

"I think he's good at his job." Good enough to pick up a pattern the police hadn't eyeballed. If he and his brother hadn't thought of a ghost first and instead had been looking for a more common explanation I would be in real trouble by now.

Masuka snorted. "Has he even published something yet?"

"Don't you have something to do?" I tried the blunt way and was ignored.

"About that strip bar." His grin grew wider. "I can get us exclusive VIP reservations."

In the last few days some really big things had happened so I needed a second to figure out what he was talking about.

"Still with that double date?" I shook my head. Rita at a strip bar, that was just wrong. Even I knew that. "Didn't we established a minute ago that Debra is seeing Dean?"

"That's only a phase." Masuka stated. "She'll see where the real qualities lie in the end."

"If you say so." Couldn't he just leave?

When I was finally alone I started my research on ghosts. The internet was full of pseudo scientific ghost sites - seriously, hellhoundslair? - , new age crap and supposed to be haunted houses and places which in most cases turned out to be cheesy tourist traps. I found a lot of lore, some mentioned salt or iron most didn't.

I was certain that all the answers were somewhere hidden in the depths of the internet but I had no idea where to look.

Frustrated I sat back. I could always ask the Winchesters, though. I only had to be careful not to reveal too much about myself.

So when my phone rang and Sam invited me over for dinner and to talk I said yes.


	19. Chapter 19

With every other girl Dean would have considered the evening lame and a waste of time. Basically they ate Chinese take out, then he gave her the promised feet rub and they talked a lot. With only dim lights on they cuddled on the couch – not that Dean Winchester did the cuddling thing, it was more like a comforting, holding thing – her hand on his chest and her head on his shoulder while his fingers played with her hair.

He prompted her to talk about her life and managed to sneak in a question or two about Dexter without her getting suspicious.

"So, Dexter is not your real brother?" He asked in a low voice, resting his chin on the top of her head. He smelled the shampoo she'd used and a hint of sweat and something feminine he wouldn't have associated with her at first sight.

"His parents died when he was little." She answered in the same low voice. It seemed appropriate.

In the end Dean didn't gather that much information and he hoped Sam had more luck with his research.

They turned in not long after that and any attempt for sexy times was cut off by Debra falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. So Dean just spooned behind her, his arm on her hip and his nose in her hair and with a sigh he followed her into sleep. Strange, he couldn't remember sleeping with a woman without actually sleeping with her. He kinda liked it.

Dean had picked Debra up at the department the day before so her car was still there and he had to drive her back. They kissed before she got out of the car and Dean watched her till she disappeared in the building.

Then he turned the car, picked up breakfast and returned to his patiently waiting brother in that godawful blue starfish themed motel room.

As expected Sam was already up and doing his thing at the laptop. While they ate Dean shared the little information he got with Sam who filed every piece away in that geeky brain of his.

Feeling generous Dean decided to let his brother work in peace while Dean grabbed the weapons bag and started to clean the guns and sharpen the knifes. Always keep your gear in top condition, he could practically hear his father's voice. And it spared him the boring research. That was what he had a geek little brother as a sidekick for.

Around noon Sam took the car for a trip to the library where he wanted to go through old newspaper articles on microfilm. Not Dean's idea of fun.

"Found anything?" Dean asked when Sam returned hours later.

"Actually, quite a bit." Sam sat down with a sigh. "Dexter has quite a tragic history."

"Meaning?" Tragic could mean that he saw his dog become roadkill at the age of nine or tragic like surviving bloody murder. Considering that Debra had told him Dexter's parents died when he was a kid, it most likely was the latter.

"His mother, Laura Moser." Sam looked the name up from his notepad. "She and three other people were killed when Dexter was three."

"That's how he ended up with the Morgans." Dean assumed.

"Dean, they weren't just killed. They were thrown in a shipping container and then chopped to pieces with a chainsaw." Sam paused for a second and in Dean's mind the scene played. "Dean, Dexter and his older brother have been there. They saw it. And then the killers left the two little kids there sitting ankle-deep in blood for days. They just shut the door and wandered off."

Dean swallowed against the nausea. The pictures in his mind went wild. In his line of work he had seen some gruesome things and his mind had no trouble providing pictures to the scene Sam had just described.

"How can somebody do something like that?" He asked between harsh gulps of air. How could people be so cruel to each other? What was wrong with them?

"Don't know." Sam whispered and if he blinked more than usual Dean didn't mention it. He had trouble with watery eyes himself.

In some ways monsters were more honest. Them he could understand. They had rules and patterns, they needed something and they took it, black and white. In some ways monsters were easy.

People on the other hand were just crazy.

After the minute they both needed to compose themselves Dean spoke up. "You think it's the mother?"

"With a death like that? Quite possible." He was focuses on his notes. "Don't know what happened to the brother. The only other death in Dexter's life I managed to find is his foster dad Harry Morgan."

"Another gruesome death?" Dean guessed and hoped to be wrong. Nobody deserved tragedies like that.

"Nope. Heart attack."

Not exactly vengeful spirit material. "Okay, he probably isn't our Casper. Which leaves us what?"

"I'd say Doakes is most likely out, too." Sam counted with his fingers. "Which leaves us Paul Bennett or Laura Moser."

"We can dig up two graves." Dean offered but he knew that probably wouldn't solve their problem. They needed to find the link to Dexter. A connection like that was very unusual there had to be a direct link to Dexter.

"Laura Moser has been cremated." Sam searched his notes. "And Paul Bennett is buried here in Miami. Wanna dig him up?"

"Let's talk to Dexter first." Dean said. "I think he knows exactly who is haunting him. Or at least he has his suspicions."

"Alright, I call him." Sam picked up his phone.

They met with Dexter at the diner. Sitting in the booth at the far end the Winchesters overlooked the diner and had some privacy. Normally they would face each other but today they sat shoulder to shoulder which reminded Dean how big his little brother had become. Dean himself was anything but small and he had to be careful to not fall off the bench. Next time he'd vote for a place with chairs.

"You said he'd be here." Dean muttered. The waitress – a pretty young thing Dean wouldn't mind to get to know better – had brought the menus five minutes ago and Dean's stomach begged for placing the order. But Dexter was late and Sam wanted to be polite and wait till he arrived. Where Sam had picked up table manners Dean had no idea but he thought Stanford. Or Jess and her family. Not a topic he wanted to touch so he kept his mouth shut and listened to the grumbling of his belly.

"We could at least place our orders." He whined when he saw the people two booths over were be served. It smelled delicious.

Finally the bell above the door announced another customer. Dexter looked around and Sam raised his hand to guide him to their table.

"Sorry." Dexter sat down on the opposite bench. "Traffic." He shrugged.

"Any problems with … your problem?" Sam made a vague gesture because of the waitress heading their way. Yeah, discussing ghosts in public wasn't that of a good idea. Dean was glad that Dexter caught up on that fact and didn't say something weird.

"No, no problems." Dexter hurried to say and took the menu the waitress offered him. They placed their orders and when the coast was clear, they started to talk. Actually Dean liked business talk in diners. If they kept their voices low nobody noticed the weird topics they often discussed over a burger.

"I thought about what you told me." Dexter started. "That ghost harm or kill people."

"That's right." Sam used that tone and Dean zoomed out. "They are called vengeful spirits. They try to punish the people who did them wrong or killed them in the first place. Or they are like what we thought Doakes would be, a killer who can't stop killing."

Dean listened only with half an ear his eyes more on the ass of the waitress moving between the tables. He was kinda dating Debra so he wouldn't make a move but he wasn't dead so he looked. And for sure enjoyed the view.

When she brought their meals the conversation came to a halt and they dug in while it was hot.

"You are taking all this very well." Dean said with his mouth full of burger. Even without seeing his brother's face he knew Sam glared at him. So he didn't have good table manners, so what? Pissing off little brothers was definitively worth it.

"Like I said, I already had my suspicions that something wasn't right with those FBI files." Dexter chewed on some fries and didn't bother to swallow properly before he talked. "Does every spirit turn vengeful?"

"Eventually." Sam even used his napkin before he opened his mouth. "They stay here because something keeps them back. Unfinished business of some kind. However, the longer they stay the more they lose touch with reality. Sooner or later they go insane and lash out on everybody reminding them of their unfinished business."

Dexter picked up more fries and chewed thoughtfully. "How long does this usually take?"

"This is not exact science." Sam answered. "It depends on the circumstances, on the personality. Some even go dormant for decades before something disturbs them again."

"You have no idea if whatever this is around me is dangerous or not." Dexter summed it up.

"We know it's most likely a ghost." Dean entered the conversation. "We're not sure which one but we think we've narrowed it down to two. Paul Bennett or Laura Moser." Stating the last name Dean watched Dexter closely. As expected it threw Dexter off.

"Laura Mo...?" Dexter took effort to keep his voice down. "What? Did you check up on me?"

"Hey, we're just doing our job." Dean raised his hand in an non-threatening manner. "Besides you were the one searching our room first."

Okay, Dexter obviously hadn't expected them to know about that but he kept it together really well.

"You had no right." Dexter insisted and tapped his fingertip on the table to make his point. "You could have ask." For a second it looked like he was about to bolt. But running off wouldn't solve the problem. They all knew that.

"And you would have told us the truth? C'mon." Dean shoved his empty plate away. "You know exactly who's haunting you and you didn't bother to tell us. What did you expect us to do?" He gave Dexter the chance to say something but he stubbornly stayed silent. "This is no game, this isn't fun. Maybe till now everything was fine but rather sooner than later this will turn really ugly really fast."

Dexter stared at him like he wanted to kill him, a glare Dean had encountered many times before and had given quite a few times himself but from Dexter it was kinda unsettling. For a lab geek he had quite a backbone.

Hit a nerve there, Dean thought.

"Dexter." Sam tried to calm the situation. "You could be in danger. Debra, Rita, the kids, someone could get hurt. Please, just tell us what you know and we can stop this."

Dexter considered the situation before he spoke. "He means no danger." He finally said.

"So this is Paul Bennett." Dean leaned back. His money had been on the mother but with Paul they could be lucky and a night out on the cemetery might solve their problem. Maybe. It was worth a shot.

"It's not Paul." Dexter said looking down at his half eaten meal. "It's Harry Morgan, my dad."


	20. Chapter 20

Maybe this had been a bad idea. We ate and we talked – well mostly me and Sam did the talking while Dean was eying the waitress – and I learned a few things about ghosts and then Dean blurred out that they had sniffed in my past. They even thought my own mother was haunting me. Okay, my foster-dad did, but that was not the point. If they knew about my mother, what else did they know? Did they know about my brother? Did they know who I was?

And how did they figure out that I had searched their room? I am very careful to not leave any tracks behind. Had I been sloppy? Or were they just that good? Watching Dean getting distracted by a nice ass I didn't think so.

I finally admitted that my foster-dad was haunting me. Not the word I'd use but that seemed to be the official term. Harry was haunting me, I tried to warp my mind around that idea. Until now I had the word haunting connected with screaming apparitions, flying furniture and nasty deaths.

All Harry ever did was talking to me, to be there when I needed him. He was the only one who was there, who knew.

"Harry?" Dean repeated. The Winchesters shared one of those looks. "He died of a heart attack."

That wasn't exactly right, however, that was a point I didn't want to elaborate.

"We were close." I offered. That didn't start to touch it, our relationship had been way more than just close.

"Okay. Harry." Sam was the first who processed the new information. "Any chance you have something on you that had belonged to him? Some kind of heirloom?" He squinted at me like he new what kind of long shot that was. I didn't wear any jewelry, I didn't even had a picture of him in my wallet and I told them so.

"Transplantation?" Dean asked and that was an even longer stretch. He knew Harry and I wasn't blood related so we were most likely not compatible.

"No. Why would you ask that?" I wondered if they were insane after all. Maybe a little bit but I couldn't explain Harry away. It is kind of hard to call someone insane if you share their delusions.

"Transplanted organs are part of the original body. A spirit could use that as a link to the acceptor." Sam explained and he even blushed a little. "Good it's not that because we can't just cut out an organ. You know, in most cases they are kinda needed." He fiddled with his cup of coffee clearly at a loss.

Dean made a barely notable motion with his chin and Sam answered with an even smaller nod.

"What are you going to do?" I asked when they got ready to leave.

"We hadn't thought of Harry." Dean admitted as if that was an explanation. "We have to think about this."

"Maybe we can meet again tomorrow?" Sam asked and I offered my place. After that we left the diner. They drove off in their car and I sat in mine and tried to process what just had happened. In the past hour I had learned more about ghost I ever wanted to know and everything swirled through my mind. I sat there for long minutes and it took me a while to notice how cold it was in the car.

"They want to kill me." Harry said and I didn't need to look in his direction to know he was sitting in the passenger seat.

"They don't know how to do something about you." I reminded him and I was the last person to help them.

"There's one thing they can do." Harry said but didn't care to explain. When I glanced in his direction he was gone.

Deep in thoughts I drove home where Debra awaited me with a beer and the offer of a peaceful evening in front of the TV. Absolutely not what I was in the mood for but I smiled and nodded.

"No date with Dean tonight?" I took the beer and we sat down on the couch.

"He said he had something he has to take care of." Debra shrugged. "Fuck, it's not like we are engaged or something."

We watched some TV but my mind was far away. I went over the information the Winchesters gave me over and over again trying to find that one piece Harry had referred to. What could they do? And more important: Would it work?

If I would have been capable of loving someone I would have loved Harry, however, even without that feeling I didn't want him gone. He was the one grounding me. He helped me to see clear when everything seemed unclear.

Suddenly Sam's words were replaying in my mind as if he was standing right next to me. Realization hit me and I sat straight up. I knew what Dean had to take care of tonight.

"Dexter?" Debra ask. "What's up?"

Your boyfriend is about to dig up our father to burn his corpse. I looked into her open questioning eyes and couldn't tell her the truth.

"I forgot." I stammered searching for a plausible lie and found nothing. "I have to go. There is this thing I've to … I have to go."

"Dexter?" She asked but I already shut the door behind me. "Dexter! What the fuck?" She yelled but didn't come after me.

I jumped in my car and hoped I wasn't too late. I didn't even know if I was right about this but I had to make sure. For a moment I considered calling them and bluntly ask but decided against it.

I drove through the night and some part of me expected Harry to appear. The passenger seat remained empty and the way to the cemetery felt way longer than usual.

When I finally arrived I parked next to the only other car around. A black Chevy Impala. Dean's car.

Of course I knew where my father's grave was so I didn't have to search around. And even if not the light of two flashlights would have led me the way.

In stealth mode like I was on the hunt I made my way over the cemetery. Coming closer I heard the unmistakable sound of a shovel working its way through the soil and the murmured voices of the Winchesters.

I ducked behind a gravestone and took in the scene in front of me. It looked like something out of a horror movie and the only things missing were the wafts of mist and maybe a bat or two.

Sam stood next to the grave a flashlight in one hand and a shotgun in the other. At his feet lay the second flashlight, its beam highlighting the gravestone and another sawed off shotgun poking out of a green duffel bag. Dean did the digging and he must almost have reached the casket because he was up to his shoulders in the hole he was digging. Not just digging a hole, digging up a grave.

_They are doing it_, went through my head. _They are reopening my father's grave._

Sam had told me how to put a spirit to rest and there were the charges for grave desecration but until now I hadn't been sure if they really meant it.

I'd dug up a grave or two myself in the past, when I needed proof that there actually was a body, proof that my victim belonged on my table, so I understood that part. It was part of the job, theirs and mine, however, this was not any grave. This was my father's grave. And that was kinda personal.

"Are you almost done?" Sam asked but with his eyes he swept the graveyard as if he expected to be attacked any second now. Was he waiting for me? I duck deeper in the shadow and his eyes passed me without him seeing me.

"Stop bitching around." Came Dean's response while one shovel of dirt after the other flew out of the grave. He worked in a steady rhythm but his breathing was even like he was used to this kind of nightly activity.

The shovel hit something solid and Dean changed position and scrapped the last dirt from what had to be the casket.

I swallowed thickly. That was my father's – foster-dad's – casket.

"Sam, get the salt and the gas." Dean ordered and duck in the hole. A creaking noise told me that he was opening the casket.

"You have to stop them." Harry said next to me. "They're going to kill me."

Stop them, that was easy to say. They had shotguns and I didn't have a syringe on me, no tools, not even a pocketknife. Taking them down hand to hand would be risky even without counting in the shotguns.

While I was still thinking about what to do Dean climbed out of the hole and Sam handed him a gas canister. Sam poured salt in the open grave and Dean the gas.

My time was running out. With no better plan than to stop them I stood up and jogged over to them.

"What are you doing?" I demanded while I stepped closer.

"Crap!" Was the unison comment from both of them as soon as they spotted me.

"Dexter, please." Sam tried to be the reasonable one. "We can explain."

"This is my father's grave." I stated the obvious. Of course they had made sure to dig up the right grave. "You have no right to do this."

"No, we have no right." Sam agreed. "And yes, we should have told you, should have ask for your permission. But we have to do this. Every spirit starts to hurt people eventually. Do you want Harry to become like that?"

He looked at me with that huge pleading eyes of his and maybe if I had been a more empathic person I would have fallen for it. However, the cold observing bastard that I was didn't fall for it and recognized Sam's little speech for what it was. A distraction.

While his brother did the talking Dean sneaked his hand in his pocket and came up with a lighter. Slow, subtle movements which were easy to miss.

I did the only thing I could do to stop him from setting the casket and the corpse within on fire. I jumped over the edge of the hole – and I didn't let myself get distracted by what was inside – and tackled Dean down.

Surprised by my attack he dropped the lighter and for a second or so I had the upper hand pinning him to the ground under me. With a quick roll in the grass he freed himself, then we parted and were both on our feet the next second. He was a trained fighter.

"Dexter, stop." Sam was behind me and tried to drag me from Dean one-handed, with the other hand he was still holding the shotgun. Why he hadn't used it by now I had no idea.

And then Harry was there.

"Dexter." Was all he said. A warning, a demand, encouragement maybe, I didn't know. Whatever he wanted to say Sam heard him as well. And apparently saw him because he pointed the shotgun at him.

What I did next was maybe the stupidest thing in my life because Harry was already dead, what could some buckshot do to him? On pure reflex I launched into Sam.

I heard the gunshot and then I was lying on my back and I couldn't breathe. Something had hit me in the chest and I couldn't breathe. With some delay came the pain. My eyes watered and I couldn't breathe and my chest was on fire.

"Shit, Dexter." I heard Sam but he sounded far away. Harry was closer. He knelt next to me and through the tears and the pain I listened to his voice.

"Breathe, Dexter." He said.


	21. Chapter 21

They left the diner and got in the car.

"We need to dig Harry up." Dean said and started the car. It was too early to do anything like digging up a grave so he drove back to their motel.

"You think that'll do the trick?" Sam ask with doubt in his voice.

"Not really but we have to make sure." And who knew, maybe it was that easy for once. Yeah, right, Dean thought.

Back at the motel Sam used his laptop to find out everything about Harry Morgan he could in the short time they had while Dean made a few calls to find out where he was buried.

They could have asked Dexter which would have saved them some time but there were a few things you just didn't do. Dean wasn't known to be the most diplomatic one but even he wouldn't bluntly ask somebody where their dad was buried so he could dig him up and set the corpse on fire.

When it was late enough they drove to the cemetery. In practiced motions they got their things and then searched the gravestones for the right one.

"Should be over there." Dean's flashlight showed the way. "What do we do if this doesn't work?"

Sam hurried up behind him. "Find his weakness."

Dean turned and pointed his flashlight right in his brother's face.

"That easy? Find the weakness." Dean parroted with a shake of his head. "This Casper is a slippery son of a bitch, we haven't even noticed him being around for days. And Dexter isn't telling us anything." He pointed with his finger at Sam. "Finding his weakness, good luck with that one."

"You are always so optimistic, Dean." Sam batted his brother's flashlight away and stomped past him. "Let's do this and then we'll see if it does anything or not."

They found the grave and Sam took the first turn digging while Dean stood guard with his shotgun. Harry Morgan hadn't done any harm so far but Dean wasn't taking any chances.

Halfway through they switched places and Dean took over the shovel. Fully concentrated on his work he trusted Sam to protect him from the angry ghost if Harry decided to join the party. Sometimes the ghosts noticed that someone was messing with their remains and tried to stop them. Sometimes they didn't show at all and the Winchesters could go home without bruises or concussions or the occasional broken bone but he wouldn't bet on that.

So far everything was quiet.

"Are you almost done?" Sam asked from his comfortable positions outside while Dean coughed earthworms.

"Stop bitching around." Dean didn't break his rhythm and soon the shovel hit wood for the first time. "Gotcha." Dean mumbled with a grin and scraped the last of the dirt from the casket.

"Sam, get the salt and the gas." Dean bent down and fought against the lit of the casket. Standing nearly on top of it this was always the tricky part but a trick he had perfected a long time ago.

"Hallo, Harry Morgan." The man had been buried in his uniform, however, time hadn't done him any favors.

Dean climbed out of the hole and tossed the shovel to the side, Sam handed him a canister and together they dosed the corpse with salt and gas.

Patting his pockets for the lighter Dean didn't notice Dexter till he was right in his face.

"What are you doing?" Dexter's voice carried far in the silence of the nightly graveyard.

Dean looked up with a hearty "Crap!" on his lips. Sam seemed to feel the same way.

"Dexter, please. We can explain." Sam said and Dean almost burst into laughter. How in hell did Sam intend to explain that they were about to burn the corpse of Dexter's father?

Letting Sam do the talking Dean got the lighter. If Sam could distract Dexter long enough …

They would have to apologies later and maybe made a run for it out of town but this had to be done. Slowly, never letting Dexter out of his sight, Dean got the lighter out and was just about to do the job. Somehow Dexter still managed to surprise him. Dean hadn't expected that a lab geek knew how to fight and he paid for that with an embarrassing landing on his back with Dexter on top of him. For a second confused he blinked at Dexter but then flipped them around and got away from him. Both in fighting stance – obviously Dexter knew what he was doing – they circled each other while Sam tried to reason with Dexter.

With a flicker Harry was there. Dean had only seen pictures of that man – and his not so fresh corpse – but he had no doubt about who was suddenly among them.

"Dexter." Harry said and Dean longed for his shotgun which was way out of reach. Sam on the other hand had his right in his hand and in one smooth motion he took a step back and raised the gun.

Dean saw Dexter move and reached out to hold him back but it was too late. The gun went off and the sound mixed with Dexter's scream. He landed on his back, his shirt perforated by the rock-salt and red spots blooming all over his chest.

That had to hurt like a bitch. Dean rubbed his own chest in sympathy, he knew the feeling. No fun at all.

"Shit, Dexter." Sam shouted. He stood there frozen in shock of what he had done and Dean couldn't blame him for that.

Dexter lay on his back gulping for air like a fish out of the water but Dean's main interest was where the lighter was. They had to finish this now.

When Sam made a hesitant step towards Dexter, Harry was back. Ignoring the Winchesters he knelt beside Dexter.

"Breathe, Dexter." He said

Behind Dean another blast of Sam's shotgun bellowed through the night but he had only eyes for that shiny little thing on the ground. In one smooth motion he picked the lighter up and set the prepared corpse on fire. He prayed that it would work but Dean didn't stay to watch. Diving for his shotgun he spun around to join the battle. Dexter was still on the ground gasping for air and Sam stood a few feet way shotgun aimed at where Dean guessed Harry had been a second ago.

A small optimistic part of Dean's mind waited for the telltale burst of flames which would mean the end of Harry Morgan's existence on earth. The more realistic part of his mind waited for Harry to go ballistic. Neither happened.

Harry was back while his bones burned way past the point where it should have done the trick but he completely ignored the Winchesters and their guns. He knelt beside Dexter.

"Dexter, get up." He ordered in a voice John Winchester would have liked. "Dexter."

Dexter nodded and struggled to get on his knees. With both hands he clutched the front of his battered shirt. Over his head the Winchesters shared a look. They both were in no position to shoot Harry without getting Dexter caught in another scatter of rock salt.

We are so screwed, Dean realized and steeled himself for the things he knew would come next. Becoming airborne wasn't his favorite activity but the landing was always worse.

Plenty of gravestones and some trees to hit around here, he noticed, not counting the things the spirit could throw at them. Or maybe Harry was the personal type and liked to choke his victims or crush their hearts in his ice-cold fist. Been there, done that. Experiences Dean rather didn't want to repeat.

Seeing the same tension in his brother Dean waited for the things to happen or till he got a clear shot, whatever came first. But Harry's attention stayed fully on Dexter as if the Winchesters weren't even there.

"You have to move." Harry encouraged his son and moved a little out of the way to give him some space to maneuver. Feet wide apart to become more or less stable Dexter finally stood. Hands on his knees he stood bent over and seemed close to topple over again. With a flicker Harry was gone and Sam stepped forward and grabbed Dexter by the arm to hold him upright.

"You okay?" Sam asked leaving the stay on guard part for Dean who waited with his shotgun ready for Harry's next move.

"You burned my father's corpse." Dexter stated between harsh breathes.

"Sorry about that." Dean said without feeling sorry. He stepped back and over his shoulder had a look down the grave. The flames were dying and the spook was still around, just fucking awesome.

"You shot me." Dexter fingered his chest to find out how much damage he had taken but Sam batted his hand away.

"Just rock salt." Sam said as if that made it better. Dean rolled his eyes and picked up the shovel. The least they could do was to fill the grave up again.

"Hurts like a bitch but you'll live." Dean said with a smirk and started digging. Again.

"We drop you off in an ER." Sam offered but Dean knew that was the last thing he wanted to do. If the job were done they could do that, no problem, but they needed to stick around for a while longer and Dean preferred to do his job without dodging the police. Especially if the central figure in this case worked for the police and had a cop as a sister.

Cursing under his breath Dean filled up the hole. This case kept getting better and better.

Carefully Dexter ripped the remains of his shirt open to have an actual look at his chest. Dean glanced over and winced in sympathy.

"No ER." Dexter said to his surprise. "I think I can handle it." With the tip of a finger he probed one spot and pellet of rock salt came out. He hissed in pain but didn't seem to be that bothered by his injuries.

Okay, that was unexpected. Normal behavior for the Winchesters or any other hunter who didn't want to draw attention to themselves, however, very unusual for a normal guy like Dexter.

"Em, okay?" Searching for help Sam glanced over to Dean who just shrugged and kept digging. Everybody else would have called 911 ten minutes ago. They had dug up and burned Dexter's father, that should make him furious but Dexter seemed very collected. Giving in to the pain he sat down back leaning on a gravestone and waited for Dean to finish.

"Anyway, you need to get cleaned up. We can patch you up at our motel room?" Sam went for the matter at hand. "And we need to talk, sort this out."

To Dean's surprise Dexter agreed and settled in the back of the Impala after they were done at the cemetery. Harry didn't show for what Dean was thankful. Dead or alive, shooting someones father in front of said someone was never a good idea. So far Dexter had handled it surprisingly well but the shitstorm was only one phone call away.

"I'm sorry." Sam said in the silence of the car. "We didn't want you to know what we had to do."

"Then you shouldn't have told me about how to get rid of a spirit." Dexter pointed out and Dean had to agree. Maybe they should have been a little more careful with their information.

"However, it didn't solve our problem." Dean said and caught Dexter's eye via the rear view mirror.

"Are you sure there is a problem?" Dexter shot back holding his gaze. Dean was about to say that every spirit was a problem but then thought about the last half an hour. Sam had shot Harry twice and every other spirit they had ever met would have gone ballistic by then. Throwing stuff, throwing people, the usual ghost temper tantrum. Not Harry. His focus had been fixed on Dexter. He didn't even do anything except talking. Weird.


	22. Chapter 22

I knew I should have felt something. Anger or disgust at what the Winchesters had done to my father, maybe I should have been disappointed because they had deceived me but I didn't feel any of those emotions. Some kind of relief that Harry was still around and I had to admit I was curious about Sam and Dean's next step.

Mostly I felt pain. I lay in the back of their car and every bump shot right through my body. My chest was on fire and I gulped in air in shallow breathes but even that spiked the pain with every movement. If I could have stopped breathing I'd have done that.

The drive seemed endless and I fought to stay conscious. Black spots danced in my vision and I heard the rumble of the car and the voices of the Winchester brothers muffled like through a thick layer of cotton. I had to listen, they were discussing how to get rid of Harry but I couldn't make out the words. I closed my eyes for a second and came awake with a start when Dean opened the door and gently shook my shoulder.

"C'mon, buddy." He helped me out of the car. The cool night air cleared my senses and after breathing through the pain of becoming upright, I made the short distance to their room on my own.

Blue starfish greeted us and to my watery eyes it almost looked like they were moving.

Dean dumped me on the closed seat of the toilet and wrestled me out of the remains of my torn shirt. Dried blood pasted the fabric to my wounds and I bit my bottom lip to muffle the scream when Dean ripped it off like a band-aid.

"Sorry." He tossed the shirt over his shoulder and it landed at Sam's feet who was watching the whole scene with a bag in his hand. He sat the bag down and then left us alone. I'd rather have dealt with my injuries alone – being the vulnerable one wasn't my favorite role – but at least Dean seemed to know what he was doing. Out of the bag he fished a bottle and shook two pills into his palm. I recognized the bottle as an over the counter no-name painkiller I'd used several times in similar situations. Okay, I never had been shot with rock salt before but sometimes my victim wasn't that cooperative. If Dean noticed some old scars he didn't say anything. I took the pills without hesitation.

"Can you take a shower?" He asked and after thinking about the question I nodded. "Okay, take a towel with you and after the hot water has dissolved the dried blood you have to rub your chest as hard as you can. You have to get as much salt out of your skin as you can. Understand?"

It already hurt like a bitch but I knew it had to be done. I jerked my head in a nod.

"Good, after that I'll get the rest out with forceps." With one last considering look at me he left me alone and I concentrated on the task of getting my clothes off. Done with that I was already sweating and trembling and I had to lean my head back against the cool tiles for a moment.

In the shower I gritted my teeth and made good use of the towel. Pebbles of rock salt hit the shower tray and when I was done I barely made it back to the toilet seat.

"Dexter?" Came Sam's voice through the door. "You okay in there?"

I had to clear my throat before I could answer. "Give me a second."

I wrestled my way back in my boxers and the pants, tucked a dry towel around my bleeding again chest and then left the bathroom. As far as I could tell there were still a few pieces of rock salt in my skin but the towel got most of them out. Dean gestured for me to lay down on one of the beds a grin on his face and the promised forceps in his hand.

"What's that?" They had rolled the rug to the side and Sam was busy chalking something on the bare floorboards.

"Let's get you cleaned up first." Dean gave me a gentle push and I collapsed bonelessly on the bed. My chest didn't like sudden movements and I grunted in pain blinking away the tears in my eyes.

"Stay still." With sure movements Dean got to work. By then the painkillers had kicked in and it wasn't as bad as I had expected. It seemed like Dean had done something like that before.

Just like me the brothers were in constant danger of getting hurt during their job and like me they couldn't get to a hospital. Not without raising questions better not be asked. At least they were the two of them, they could take care of each other. I only had myself. Only me to clean my wounds, to put stitches in my own flesh. Except for Harry. He was there when I needed him, he supported me, he comforted me. He never did – could do? – more than talking but that was enough. It had to be enough because it was all I got, all I could hope for.

And now the Winchesters were here to take that away from me, to take Harry away. I wasn't sure if I could stay on the path he had laid out for me, if I could follow the Code without him. I was sure, however, that I didn't want to find out.

Dean put the forceps away, washed the blood off my skin, put ointment on and then bandaged my chest.

"Good as new." He said and gathered his things. They had their first aid kid well stocked with bandages and everything they needed for bloody injuries, I had to admit. I watched him for a second but then my attention was back on Sam. Whatever he had been doing he was done by now. Waiting he sat on the other bed and when our eyes met he gave me a little smile.

"What now?" I asked and propped myself up on my elbows so that I could see what he had drawn on the floor. While Dean had taken care of me Sam had added candles and a bowl with what looked like some kind of herbs. And in the middle of the complex symbol lay my bloody shirt.

"Now we summon Harry." Sam said.

"We are going to do what?" I sat up fully, ignoring the pain in my chest. I needed to catch my breath but I wasn't in danger of losing consciousness which was a good sign. For a brief second I wondered what my life had become. And I had thought it had been strange before. I had no doubt they could summon Harry, I had, however, my suspicions about their intentions.

"Look." Sam was still on the opposite bed, our knees only inches apart and he looked me in the eye with that sincere look of his. "We need to find out why he's still around. What he wants. Don't you want him to find peace?"

To be honest I wanted things to stay the way they were. Their idea of giving Harry peace had so far involved to exhume and burn him. That didn't sound peaceful to me so I was a little prejudiced against their next move.

"What we are about to do will do nothing to him." Dean stepped in. "We summon him to talk to him. Nothing more." From one of their duffels he pulled out little bags which he set aside within easy reach. Salt.

I took in the prepared ritual – or whatever you'd call it – and the rational part of my mind wanted to laugh at the idea of summoning a spirit, I was a scientist after all, but with all the evidence I had seen it was ridiculous to not believe. Like the famous Sherlock Holmes once said: When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

"At least we don't have to improvise this time." Dean shook his head. "I still can't believe that the SpongeBob place mat actually worked."

They had done this before, I guessed, and with less appropriate material it looked like.

So yes, I believed in ghosts and I believed the Winchester when they said they could force Harry to come to them. What I didn't believe was that they only wanted to talk. They had made their intentions clear in the past. Sam had confirmed it just a minute ago. They wanted to destroy Harry.

They kept saying every spirit turned vengeful eventually and that Harry maybe meant no harm now but would for certain at some point in the future.

I wasn't sure if my wish to keep him around wasn't a selfish one. Didn't Harry deserve to find peace? Wasn't I an ungrateful son for denying him that one last thing? He had devoted his whole life to the task of forming me, creating me, turning me into the weapon I had become. I honored him by sticking to the Code but was that enough? Didn't he deserve more?

My brain sluggish from the pain and the meds had difficulties to proceed those thoughts and in the end I nodded my okay.

I didn't know what I expected but I nearly burst out laughing when Sam picked up a leather-bound journal and started to recite something in Latin. It didn't help that Dean lit the candles at certain points or burned the herbs in the bowl at a sign from Sam. The aroma of the burning herbs combined with the still lingering smell of my own blood unsettled my stomach and I wondered if it would interrupt the ritual if I puked right next to it. Swallowing against the nausea I couldn't shrug off the feeling of being in a cheap horror movie. Could this become more cliché?

The Winchesters proceeded like this was the most normal thing in the world to do. For them it maybe was.

The only thing that felt odd – besides the whole situation – was my battered and bloody shirt they had set in the center of the symbol on the floor.

Then Sam finished his reading and both Winchesters stood there looking around as if they expected something to happen. I hold my breath for a second too and then my rational brain kicked in. I had been a fool for thinking that some chalk on the floor and all the mystic mambo-jambo would do anything.

When I opened my mouth to tell them exactly that, my breath condensed as a foggy cloud in front of my face. When suddenly the shirt moved by itself it wasn't only the sudden cold that sent shivers down my spine.

I could only stare at the shirt floating in the air, a tight ball like somebody was scrunching it up with both hands.

The Winchesters were now on high alert. Both of them had stepped back, eyes searching the room and they both had their hands in bags of what I assumed had to be salt.

Then with a flicker Harry stood in the middle of the room. For a second we all just stared at him while his gaze was firmly on me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Winchesters shift in tension like they expected a fight. But Harry stood there without even acknowledging their presence.

"Dexter." He finally spoke. "Are you alright?" He stepped closer and crouched in front of me. He had this worried look in his eyes but didn't do anything.

"I'm fine." I reassured him.

"Harry Morgan?" Sam stepped closer but kept his distance. If he had to fight he'd have space to move. Dean stayed back, a fist full of salt ready to throw at Harry.

At first Harry didn't react to the question but then he stood up and turned to face Sam. He stood between me and Sam shielding me from him, if by accident or as a deliberate act I couldn't tell.

"Who is asking?" Harry knew exactly who they were but old habits die hard and all that. He had been a cop and knew how to get information without revealing too much himself.

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean." Sam introduced them. "We need to talk."


	23. Chapter 23

In the car they discussed their options. As if they had any. Burning the corpse had already been an act of desperation. They had done it to cover the basics, however, Dean had doubted it would be enough from the beginning but they had to make sure.

"Any ideas?" Dean asked and checked via the rear view mirror on Dexter. He seemed pretty out of it and Dean didn't blame him. Getting hit at short range with a load of rock salt was an experience he wasn't keen on repeating either.

"Remember that priest who claimed to be an angel?" Sam asked and Dean needed a moment to follow his brothers thoughts.

"Yeah?" That had been one of the cases they rather didn't think about. That Sam had fallen for the whole angle thing would have made excellent blackmail material if Dean's beliefs hadn't been deeply disturbed as well. But c'mon. Angles? That was new age crap.

"I think we should try a séance." Sam continued. Speaking of new age crap. Not that it didn't work, Dean knew it worked, but it sounded so lame.

"And then?" He asked absolutely not fond of the idea. "Then we have a pissed off spirit at our hands."

"I don't think so." Sam half turned in his seat to face his brother. "Dean, back at the cemetery I was certain that Harry would start throwing us around but he didn't. All he seems to care about is Dexter. I shot him, twice, and he just kept talking to Dexter. I don't think he's dangerous, Dean."

"Not yet." Did he really have to remind his brother of the nature of spirits? They lose touch with reality, rather sooner than later they went insane.

"We have to find out what's keeping him here." Sam ignored his last comment. "And Dexter doesn't know which means we should talk to Harry."

Or Dexter just doesn't tell us, Dean thought.

"Alright, alright." In his mind Dean was already going over the ritual, at least the bits he remembered. The last time Sam had done the actual summoning but they had shopped the needed items together. As far as he recalled they had everything they needed in the trunk.

Dean lowered his voice but it seemed like Dexter had spaced out anyway. "Should we wait until he's back home?"

Sam turned his head and studied their passenger. "It's personal, I think we have no right to keep this from him."

"Dude, we burned his father in front of him half an hour ago." Dean entered the parking lot and stopped the car in front of their room. "You think it's a good idea to summon his spirit? He'll freak out."

"Dunno." Sam got out of the car. "He seems to handle this very well."

Muttering under his breath Dean got out of the car and then helped a groggy Dexter out. Dean had to admit Dexter handle the pain surprisingly well, too.

Inside Dean guided him to the bathroom and then helped him out of the shirt. It didn't look too bad, the rock salt had broken the skin but hadn't gone that deep. However, breathing alone would hurt like a bitch the next few days and moving around wouldn't be fun at all.

Dexter had some old scars which reminded Dean of his own but he doubted the other man had gathered his in life-or-death fights.

Sam brought in their first aid kit and Dean offered Dexter some painkillers which he took without hesitation.

After he had made sure that Dexter wasn't about to faint Dean left him alone to take a shower and to get rid of most of the salt. Dean stayed close to the door just in case and he winced in sympathy every time he heard a grunt of pain over the sound of the water.

"Dean, can you get the candles from the trunk?" Sam asked. On his knees with his tongue sticking out in concentration he copied the symbols from their dad's journal. For a second Dean saw a much younger version of Sam drawing a Hopscotch on the asphalt in front of a random motel room. He hadn't done such innocent thing since he had been what eight? Nine?

Dean sighed and Sam looked up with a "What?" in his eyes.

"The candles, right." Dean hurried out of the room.

When Dexter finally came out of the bathroom Dean patched him up while Sam finished their preparations. They still needed to break down their plan to Dexter.

"Good as new." Dean put everything back in the first aid kit. He avoided to look Dexter in the eye. Of course the other man had noticed the symbols and they couldn't stall for much longer.

"What now?" Dexter asked and Sam told him. Naturally Dexter was shocked but Sam talked to him and in the end he nodded and let them do the ritual.

Dean knew that magic worked, he had seen it in action way to many times for his liking, but if he was the one doing the spell-work it always gave him shivers. It wasn't natural.

Sometimes they had to do it and he sucked it up but he didn't have to like it, right? Too close to witchcraft.

They went through the ritual as if they did it on a daily basis and then there was this moment when he always thought it didn't work. Then the shirt raised and floated as a tight ball in mid-air. Dean glanced at Dexter who was staring at the shirt with his mouth open. Seeing the impossible for the first time did that to you.

Dean felt the temperature drop and the hint of ozone in the air before Harry flickered into existence. Like before he ignored the Winchesters and went straight for Dexter.

"Harry Morgan?" Sam tried to get his attention but was ignored for a moment longer.

"Who's asking?" Harry turned and faced the Winchesters.

"I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean." Sam hold his gaze. "We need to talk."

With a fist full of salt Dean stood wary at the side and let his brother do the talking. So far Harry Morgan didn't seem to be a threat but that could change in a heartbeat. He wished he had his shotgun but being in a motel with other people only a thin wall away they had agreed to a more silent solution. In close quarters a fistful of salt thrown around should be enough to repel the spirit. Which didn't mean that Dean wasn't longing for his shotgun.

"You know you are dead, right?" Sam didn't bother to sugarcoat things. They hold their breaths waiting for Harry's reaction.

"Of course I know that." Harry finally answered as if he wondered why they bothered him with the obvious. "That doesn't mean that Dexter isn't my responsibility anymore."

That was a thought Dean understood. Hadn't he wondered a few days ago if in case of his dead he'd haunt Sam just to look after him as he always did?

"Dexter is a grown man." Sam tried do be reasonable and Dean rolled his eyes. As if the age of the kid mattered. "It's time to let him go."

"You don't understand." Harry said and behind him Dexter's expression matched his dad's. They weren't even blood related and still they managed to pin Sam down with the exact same expression of "Don't fuck with us". An expression Dean and Sam wore on occasion themselves, he knew, but it was a whole new experience to face the other end.

"He will always be your son." Dean spoke up and Harry's gaze shifted from Sam to him. "He will always need you." He knew exactly how Harry felt. Just the thought of leaving Sam to let him face the world alone made him shudder. He'd do it if it meant the best for Sam, though.

He had let Sam go to Stanford. He had let Sam go when he'd wanted to skip a job and went to search for their father instead. And every time Sam had left it had torn Dean apart but he had let Sam go.

Harry shook his head a sad smile on his lips. "It's not like that. Dexter needs me."

Dean leaned a bit to the side and threw Dexter a what he hoped was an encouraging look. They needed him to convince Harry. If Dexter told him to the face that he would be okay without him around then maybe Harry could let go. Maybe.

The internal fight was clearly written on Dexter's face and then he slightly shook his head and Dean knew there was no help coming from his side.

"Harry, I still need you." Dexter said and Dean knew there was no way to convince Harry to go into the light on his own. There was the slim hope left that Harry was tied to an object they could destroy. The EMF aura around Dexter most likely meant that there was something Harry was tied to which his son carried around. If Harry was still here because of his sense of responsibility towards Dexter they were screwed.

After he had heard his son's words Harry stood there with his arms crossed in front of his chest and silently dared the Winchesters to try something. Once again Dean was surprised of the passive behavior of the spirit. Maybe he hadn't figured out by now how to use telekinesis and all the other ghost superpowers. Harry seemed content with just standing there shielding Dexter from them.

Dean looked over to Sam, maybe his brother had an idea, who frowned at the pair in front of them. Dexter was still sitting on the bed and had to fist the mattress with both hand to keep himself upright. A few spots of red were blooming on the white bandages. When he started to falter Harry turned back to his son and comforted him with whispered words. Once again ignoring the Winchester brothers.

"Shit." Sam said in a "this is going to be bad" way.

"Care to share with the class?" Dean prompted but kept his eye on Harry.

"I think I know what he's tied to." Sam answered and ran a hand through his bangs.

"And?" Sometimes it was difficult to cut Sam off and sometimes it was like pulling teeth with that kid.

"Dean." Sam made a vague gesture towards father and son in front of them. "It's Dexter. Harry is tied to Dexter."

"To a person?" He must have misunderstood his brother. "I've heard of transplanted organs, on rare occasions, but to another person? C'mon Sam, that's ridiculous."

"It makes perfect sense." Sam warmed up to that topic and Dean steeled himself for a longer lecture. "Look at them. They obviously mean a lot to each other." When Sam started to discourse about the energy of emotions and the bond between family members in combination with traumatic experiences Dean zoned out. Harry was tied to Dexter, that was all he needed to know. How that was even possible in the first place didn't matter. At least not to him. Sam on the other hand acted like he had found a new supernatural subspecies and Dean had no doubt that there were long discussions with Bobby about this in the near future.

"What do we do now?" Dean interrupted his brother. By now Dexter had trouble staying conscious and the ghost tried to keep him awake by saying his name and demanding him to keep it together.

"What do you mean?" Sam blinked in confusion. Dean sighed. How could his brother miss the obvious problem here? All this geek stuff in that brain of his sometimes blocked the common sense normal people had. Not geek people, anyway.

"Dude, we can't salt and burn him." They had still a ghost-problem at hand and no way to get rid of it.

"Oh." Sam made in understanding. "That could be a problem."

"You think?"


	24. Chapter 24

I needed Harry that I understood now. He wouldn't go anywhere anytime soon and just by knowing that I gave in to the exhaustion and the pain a little more. Everything was dizzy and I broke out in a cold sweat, adrenaline wearing off and the painkillers took full effect now. I wanted to lie down and just sleep it off but the Winchester were arguing with Harry and I had to stay focused.

"Dexter." Harry crouched once again in front of me and I had no idea when he had changed position. "Breath through it. You can do it. Dexter." His words slurred to a comforting mumble but it was enough to ground me, to keep me awake more or less.

"Dude, we can't salt and burn him." I heard Dean saying but I had no clue what he was talking about. I followed Harry's instructions and breathed in and out in a slow and steady rhythm and after a minute my mind cleared enough to turn my attention back to the Winchesters. So did Harry.

After he had made sure that I wasn't about to double over he stood up and faced the brothers.

"I don't want to hurt anybody." He said and I nearly laughed at that. Hadn't that been the whole purpose of training me? So I could bring justice to the ones the law couldn't get? Okay, maybe he had been shocked in the end of what he had done but him being here was the ultimate proof that he felt responsible for what he had created.

"Dexter needs me." He didn't elaborate why I would need him but the Winchesters nodded in understanding.

"Not that we actually can do much about you." Dean said. "You ever turn vengeful, you ever hurt somebody we will find a way to banish you."

"That's only fair." Harry agreed. The brothers shared once again one of their looks and then Sam picked up the leather-bound journal and read some more Latin. When he had finished Dean blew out the candles.

"See you." Harry said to me and then with a flicker he was gone.

"Where is he?" I asked and looked around but he didn't come back. "What did you do?"

"We released him from the spell." With a tired sigh Sam dropped on the other bed and Dean sat down on the chair at the table. "He's where he always is when you don't see him. We haven't changed anything."

"And you will just leave it that way?" I had my doubt they could leave a ghost behind and move on. I knew for sure I would have my problems to let somebody go I knew belonged on my table.

"Yeah." Dean stretched his legs. "Looks like he is tied to you which means we would have to kill you and salt and burn your corpse to put him to rest."

I straightened at his words and automatically searched for a weapon. Neither of them made any attempt to attack me, though.

"Don't worry." Dean grinned at me. "You're human, we can't kill you."

"You never killed a human?" I asked but I already knew the answer.

"Of course not." He seemed really horrified by that idea. "We are busy enough killing the supernatural fuckers out there." He tried to play it down with a joke but even I could tell that he was hurt by that assumption. He was wanted for murder and I could only guess what that felt like when he was actually saving people. If I would ever be charged with murder it would be correct and I would have no reason to complain but being innocent? Or at least not guilty? Dean Winchester was many things but innocent wasn't among them.

They couldn't kill me because I was human and I couldn't kill them because they only killed supernatural monsters. Weird.

"What now?" I asked. I wouldn't mind if there would be my bed – or in this case my couch – in the near future and more painkillers.

They shrugged in unison.

"We will leave Harry for now." Sam said. He seemed tired all of a sudden. "Should you ever notice him changing …" He trailed of.

"Call us." Dean scribbled on a slip of paper and handed it to me. Their numbers. Not the one Dean had given Debra, though. That phone would got straight to voicemail for a while and then just turn dead, I guessed. I pocketed the note.

"I will." And I meant it. I didn't want Harry to turn into something he wasn't. At the moment he was just like he had always been but the "what if" was now constantly on my mind.

I tried a smile. "You think you can do something then?" Right now they were clearly at a loss with how to deal with Harry.

"To put him to rest we would have to burn you." Sam repeated. "But there are ways to banish a spirit temporarily. Hoodoo comes to mind. But we have to do some research on that."

"Hoodoo?" Okay, there was a whole world out there I had no idea about. Before Sam could answer I hold up my hands. "Never mind. I'll call if anything changes."

"Good." Sam seemed satisfied.

"Oh." Dean clicked his fingers. "You should make provisions for getting cremated after your death preferable with a bag of salt. Just in case."

"O...kay?" I guessed that made sense. Somehow. I looked at Sam in search for an explanation.

"Harry is tied to you." Sam helped me out. "In case of your death he'll maybe move on and that will be it or …"

"Or he'll lose his focus and will start to lash out on other people." Dean finished the sentence. So Harry could become like me without the Code. In a way I was Harry's Code. Like he was mine. If one of us left the right path he'd drag the other one down with him. We would negate each other. Good.

"I understand."

They gave me some more instructions but we'd already covered the basics. As long as I followed Harry's Code – not their words but that was what it basically meant – everything should be fine.

Then Dean drove me back to the cemetery where my car waited for me.

"You sure you can drive?"

"Yeah. Besides, Debra is waiting for me." I moved like an old man but I got out of Dean's car and started the long journey of a few steps over to my own one.

"Would you tell her goodbye for me?" Dean asked and rubbed the back of his head.

"Shouldn't you do that yourself?"

"Better not." Something flashed over his face but I couldn't place it. "You know, sooner or later she will find out who I am."

He didn't have to finish that thought. I nodded and he clapped my shoulder. Wincing in pain I promised him to call in case of an emergency and then he took off. I watched him till the car disappeared in the distance.

When I came home Debra was still awake waiting for me.

"Dexter? What happened?" She ask as soon as I was through the door. If she was worried because she noticed the shirt Dean had borrowed me or the scratches on my throat and chin from the rock salt or just because I looked like death warmed over I didn't know and at that moment I didn't care.

"I'm fine." I mumbled and made my way to the couch. It never had looked that inviting before. "Just tired."

I dropped on the couch and somehow managed to shoo my sister away. We wished each other a good night and with one last worried glance in my direction she closed the bedroom door behind herself. When I was sure she had settled in I made my way to the bathroom where I took another dose of painkillers.

In the morning I'd have to explain a few things and I'd no idea what I would tell her. With luck I could hide my injuries from Debra, how I should manage that with Rita I had no idea. Sex in the dark for the next weeks? Keeping the shirt on? That was another question I'd deal with tomorrow. Now I just wanted to crash on the couch and sleep. So I did just that.

In the morning I woke up and found Debra sitting beside me.

"Rough night?" She asked and handed me a glass of water and some more painkillers. "What the fuck happened? You had a fucking bar fight or what?"

"Something like that." I answered vaguely but I didn't have time to think of a better lie. "Met Sam and Dean, we went to a bar and things got a little bit out of hand, I guess."

"You were in a fight with Dean?" She tried to make sense out of the bits I gave her. Not that they did make any sense at all but I was still half asleep and my chest was on fire again because I had moved without thinking.

"Not with Dean." I corrected. "He actually saved me." The fog in my mind cleared and I managed to spin a half-ass story Debra seemed to buy.

Debra let me be and even offered to make breakfast for the both of us.

"Dean isn't answering his phone." She informed me over toast and scrambled eggs. "You think he's okay?"

"Sure." I said around a mouth full of eggs. "Said something about a family emergency. They wanted to get on the road early today." With my brain working like it should the lies came out of my mouth smoothly. "He didn't want to wake you so he ask me to tell you goodbye. He said he'll call you later." He wouldn't do that, I knew, but I didn't want to upset Debra more than necessary.

"Oh." She made and dumped her half eaten breakfast in the trash.

We went to work like every other day but to me it felt weird. There was a lot to think about, the supernatural in general and Harry in specific. I wondered how long it would take the others to ask about the Winchesters and their book they had pretended to write. How long would it take to identify them as the Winchester brothers? For Debra's sake I hoped never but I knew better.

I didn't see Harry the whole day but that wasn't unusual. He tended to appear in situations I was stressed and needed his support to clear my mind.

However, when I drove home that day suddenly Harry was there.

"You alright?" He asked and I said "yes" and with a nod he was gone.

At home I started my laptop. There was this one guy that had caught my eye. I clicked through the file. I needed to kill somebody.

Dean Winchester hadn't belonged on my table but dealing with the Winchester brothers had taken time I hadn't spent on finding my next victim. Combined with the events of the last days the urge to kill became even stronger. I would rush through the preparation, hurry with the process of making sure but Harry's Code and Harry himself were there to keep me on the right path. Don't get caught and never kill an innocent. And as long as I stuck to that Harry should stay sane as well.

"Hello, Mister Crane." I said to his mugshot on the screen. "We should meet."


	25. Chapter 25

Dean dropped Dexter off and by the time he was back at the motel Sam was done packing. In less then a minute they were ready to leave the Blue Starfish Motel. After a quick look around to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything Dean closed the door and left the starfish to glow all by themselves in the lonely dark. This was definitively one of the top five of the ugliest motel rooms ever.

They left the symbols on the floor along with the ash of the burned herbs and burned down candles. The housekeeping would have something to talk about for the next weeks but Dean didn't care.

"Think you can find us a Playboy themed motel next?" He asked and Sam just rolled his eyes. "Or just something with plain white walls, that would be awesome."

Dean intended to cross at least one state border better two before they stopped the next time. Just to be sure. Sooner or later Debra or LaGuerta or some of the others would start to ask questions. Dexter wouldn't tell anything but that could buy them only that much time.

"Think we did the right thing?" Sam asked when the sun just poked over the horizon. He had slept for a few hours while Dean had been driving. In an hour or two they would switch places but for now Dean felt good behind the wheel, the open road ahead, his brother next to him and the powerful purr of his baby vibrating through his body. That was life.

"We'll come back if we have to." Dean answered. For the moment Harry wasn't a threat and if that ever changed they would come back to finish this. Somehow. They'd figure it out when they reached that bridge. Maybe Bobby knew something. Sam would discuss this case with him anyway the next time they swung by but Dean could use the time to work on the car so it wasn't that bad.

They fell in a content silence while Led Zeppelin was blasting out of the speakers. Drumming his fingers on the wheel Dean enjoyed the early hours on the street. They'd need to stop for gas soon but beside that they were free to go wherever they wanted.

"I tell you what." Dean said after an hour or so. "Find us a hunt as far away as possible from any kind of water or boats." He'd never admit it but he breathed easier since they'd left the ocean behind. No fucking boats, anything with water or water creatures in general for him any time soon.

"I was thinking about hiking in the mountains." Sam suggested with a grin.

"You hate me, don't you?" He muttered in fake annoyance.

"Jep." Sam's grin grew wider and Dean couldn't help but grin along.

They stopped at a the next gas station and Dean got out of the car to stretch after sitting for hours.

"Fill her up." He said to Sam over his shoulder while he strolled towards the shop. "And FYI no extra candy for bitchy little brothers."

"You said as far away as possible from the water." Sam protested. "So hiking sounds good to me. Think about it, camping, getting in touch with Mother Nature."

"My fist will get in touch with your face if you don't shut up."

Of course he got Sam the junk food breakfast the gas station had to offer – mainly sandwiches with the possible side of salmonella and greasy snacks – and even a bottle of orange juice to give it the illusion of being healthy.

After they'd finished their breakfast Sam and Dean switched places. Comfortable in the passenger seat Dean slept for a while but the events of the last days didn't let him rest for long.

He fiddled with his phone tempted to call Debra but didn't. He had no idea what he should say, how to explain his sudden disappearance. With a sigh he pocketed the phone and looked out of the window.

"Wanna call Debra?" Sam asked but Dean shook his head.

"Better not." Better to remember the time they had and not to taint it with more lies. He turned the volume up and hummed along.

"Did you read that file LaGuerta gave us?" Sam changed the subject.

"Hmm." Dean hummed with the music.

"What do you think?"

"Dunno." He admitted. He had read it but it hadn't been important for their investigation so he'd skimmed it and basically had forgotten about it.

"If this is valid, and that's a big if, I don't know." Sam chewed his bottom lip. "Maybe Doakes has been innocent."

"What do you mean?" Dean turned the music down a notch so he didn't have to shout over it. "That they actually got the wrong guy?" He shook his head. "Wouldn't surprise me, you know what I think about authority figures of any kind."

"You know that includes Debra, right?"

"She's the exception that proves the rule." He countered without missing a beat. "So, you're saying that the Bay Harbor Butcher could be still out there?"

"Honestly?" Sam shifted in his seat. "I have no idea. You know we have no proof that those people actually have been killed. But we also have nothing to proof that they're still alive."

"Anyway, crazy people are not our problem." Dean pointed out. "We dealt with the supernatural problem and that's it for us."

"Leave it like it is doesn't count as dealt with it." Sam just had to say, didn't he? Dean sighed and turned the music louder again.

"Can't hear you, Sammy." He shouted over the music. "The music is too loud."

* * *

_A/N That's all folks. Thanks to everybody who stayed with me on this little journey. I post this early because I want to start a new story on Wednesday. So have a look if you like:  
_

"O Brother, Where Art Thou?"

Summary: "This human was probably my only chance to get out of Purgatory. Better not letting him get killed." Dean and Benny in Purgatory, Benny's POV. Warning: A vampire's mind is a dark place.


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